


Coffee Shop

by Shuppet



Category: Real People - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-09
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-01-04 03:48:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 22,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1076195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shuppet/pseuds/Shuppet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you meet a friendly face at your usual coffee shop, you don't think much of it. But what would happen if that friendly face became a regular presence in your life? Guess who's bad at story summaries! Will this happenstance meeting blossom into something more, or will it crash and burn like things in your life have tended to do up until now?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Happy Birthday To Me

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this is the first chapter, and I promise that future chapters will typically be a bit longer than this one. 
> 
> Erm, so I hope you enjoy the first chapter of the story~ I should mention that I don't foresee this story getting too graphic/lemony but that's just how it's looking right now, so... Okay, enjoy(hopefully)!~

The steam from the chai tea latte wafted its cinnamon scent into the air. You sat cozily in one of the two chairs at the small round table inside the coffee shop. The shop wasn't particularly big or famous, but its reputation for having rich, flavorful brews was steadily on the rise; for this reason your old coffee shop was filled to the brim this morning with chatting customers. You could complain that your once private coffee cove was now overrun with outsiders, but you didn't. If you were being honest with yourself, you'd been coming to this place to drink a warm beverage and spend some alone time for so long now that it almost felt like a child to you. In a way, you were almost proud of it for finally getting some attention.

Still, you could do without the noise. You opened your book, The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald, and tried to ignore the distractions around you. Of course, you'd read the book before. Once in Junior year as part of the class curriculum, and once every year since then. You'd fallen in love with Fitzgerald's works that year, but of all his novels, The Great Gatsby still held that top spot in your heart. It only made sense that you'd reread it today of all days, in this familiar place, with this warming drink in your gloved hand. You looked down at the pages and took a sip from your drink, intent on ignoring the world and enjoying the morning. That is, until a voice directed unmistakably at you cut through the air.

"May I join you?" You exhaled softly, trying not to show either your disappointment or agitation, and looked up from the pages of your book. A man who was appropriately bundled for the chill November weather and who appeared to be about a decade older than you smiled kindly your way. There were no other seats available in the shop, so unfortunately, you moved your crossed feet from the seat and offered him a tentative smile instead of a verbal response to his question. As he sat down, you returned your eyes to your book. "You're a Fitzgerald fan?" The man you gave your footrest to asked, clearly having noticed the book in your hands. You glanced up at him and smiled slightly, nodding. You noticed for the first time his accent. It wasn't thick, so it didn't register with you before, but now you recognized it as an English accent. "You know, Fitzgerald's writing aside, he was quite the character. He and his wife Zelda, running amuck, ehehee!" He laughed at his own comment, and you smiled and let out a small laugh as well, though you felt slightly annoyed and sat up a little straighter in your seat. 

"I think Fitzgerald was a much deeper person than people give him credit for. I think a lot of his fooling around was more of a distraction from himself and his own sort of cynical thoughts than anything else," you defended your author. You weren't one to argue with strangers, but this one spoke so readily about your favorite author, interrupted your reading, and still managed to portray such an inviting air that you couldn't help put your own two cents out there. 

The stranger was watching you as you spoke with a slight smile, and surprisingly he nodded. "You're absolutely right! That's probably where his love for Zelda stemmed from, don't you agree? Because she was such a fantastically beautiful distraction from his work, which both, um, freed and vexed him at the same time, you know?" You did know, nodding as well and smiling genuinely now. At first, you thought this stranger would get on your nerves, but as you continued to talk to him about Fitzgerald and Zelda and soon Hemingway as well, you found that you were really glad he sat down at your table. More so, you were disappointed when he stood, his drink evidently ready.

"Well that's me." He said, standing and offering his hand to you at the same time. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name." You reached out and shook his hand with a smile, giving him your name happily. His smile widened a little bit at your name, as if knowing it made him just a bit happier now than he was before. "I'm Tom. It's been a pleasure talking with you." He said his farewell, then walked over to the counter in long strides and grabbed his drink. He looked back and offered you a small wave, which you returned, before leaving the shop. You watched out the shop window as Tom pulled his scarf over his lips and his shades down over his eyes, and walked down the street as if he were hiding his face from the world.

You took another sip of your latte, swirling the cinnamon sweet flavors on your tongue before letting the liquid warm your throat and eventually your core. You couldn't help but think he looked familiar, but you couldn't quite put your finger on it. You shrugged it off. "A good conversation with a nice stranger," you said to yourself as you once again cracked open your book. "Not too bad as far as 20th birthday presents go."


	2. Father and First Vessel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter to help depict your home life. No Tom in this one, but I promise he'll be back!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to always always always thank my lovely beta before I post a chapter. I don't think she's quite made her account on here, but when she does I'll credit her properly, and maybe you can thank her too because I promise without her my writing is so littered with mistakes that it's a nightmare to read. THANK YOU MY DEAR.
> 
> Now, enjoy~

You had spent hours in that coffee shop, then roamed the local streets window shopping as usual. You had planned on treating yourself to a small present, it being your birthday, but in the end hadn't found anything you really wanted after all. It was around four o'cock in the evening when you made your way home. The door was locked, so you knew your parents weren't home as you took out your key and let yourself in. You flicked on the lights as you went from entryway, through the living room, and into the kitchen to find a small handwritten note on the counter.

'We're going out tonight, and you should too! Go be social for once!~' Your mother's obnoxiously bubbly letters glared at you from the paper, and you sighed. Flipping it over just so you wouldn't have to look at it any more, you hadn't expected to find your father's smaller handwriting on the back. 'Happy birthday Sweetheart. There's a slice of cake hidden in the back of the fridge with your name on it. Enjoy your night home alone.' You smiled then. 

After a moment of appreciating your father, you promptly turned towards the fridge. Clearly it was cake time. You found the slice of cake neatly saran-wrapped and hidden behind a jar of pickles. You snorted as you pulled it out. Your mother hated pickles. What a clever hiding spot your father had chosen. 

You took that cake and a fork to your room upstairs. Your parents would likely be out all night, so you decided to do as your father had suggested and enjoy the peace and quiet in the house.

The peace didn't last long enough. Engulfed as you had been in your book, the abrupt slamming door downstairs made you jump in your seat and frown. You could hear your mother's squeal, muffled as it was, and put your earbuds in your ears. With any luck, she wouldn't barge into your room and demand why you weren't out partying like she had been.

You had never been very lucky.

"Daughter!!!" She cawed. You cringed. Her heavy footsteps were growing louder, and for a moment you debated jumping into bed and pretending to be asleep just to avoid conversing with her. Unfortunately, you couldn't commit to faking unconsciousness before your mother came crashing through your bedroom door. She said your name as if she were appalled to see you sitting in your room beneath your book light; as if this were not your usual state. "Why aren't you out, having the time of your life?!" You offered her a shrug. There was no point in arguing with her, this much you knew. All you could do was sit tight and wait her out. "You should have gone out! You should have found some friends and gone dancing! Or just gone by yourself! You're a good looking woman! You could have picked up a special friend or two tonight!" 

You were 20 years old now, but you had no desire to behave the way your mother did. You were taking online college courses to work towards your degree while at the same time working on a few personal projects. You liked to believe that while you weren't out working manually every day, you were still being productive with most of your time. The last thing you wanted to do was go clubbing.

Even so you weren't as antisocial as your mother made you out to be. You had friends whom you liked to spend time with. It just so happened that your birthday fell during the holiday season between Thanksgiving and Christmas, and this year like many years before, everyone was either busy with their families or away on vacation or both. They sent heartfelt e-cards and posted sweet Facebook messages, and that was enough to make you smile. However this was never enough for your mother. 

It had to have been a few solid minutes of complaining on your mother's side before your father poked his head into the room, smiling sheepishly. "Honey?" He called to your mother, sharing a glance with you. "Let's leave her be," he suggested. Though your mother was clearly unhappy with you, it seemed she was more willing to give up on her scolding than continue whining without response.

"Fine, let's go have a drink, Gerald." Your father closed your bedroom door behind your mother, but not without catching your grateful expression and smiling at you. With the click of the closing door, your muscles relaxed. It really was tiring, being told you were an antisocial freak as often as you were, especially since you really weren't. A bit reserved, maybe, but not antisocial...

Within the hour you fell asleep, embracing dreams of conversations with Nick Carraway and the beautiful Daisy Buchanan.


	3. Bump and (Coffee) Grind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Would you look at that! What are the odds of running into the same friendly face twice? Will these coffee shop run-ins become a regular thing? Would you be disappointed if they didn't?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally a longer (at least for me) chapter! Most will be around this length, maybe a tad bit shorter, unless they are reader reflective and you aren't interacting with too many other people (mainly Tom). Those tend to be about half this size, as you've seen~ 
> 
> As always and forever, a huge thank you to my beta and friend for running through the chapter and helping me weed out most if not all of the errors. Much love and gratitude to her~ <3

It took a few days, but your mother had finally ditched your afternoon home on your birthday as a conversation topic. It was a relief to finally be able to walk around the house without the fear of it being throw in your face. This morning you had slept in particularly late, at least for you, and hadn't made your way downstairs until almost 11. Your father was sitting at the dining room table, still sipping his black coffee and scanning the paper. He was one of those people who insisted that the newspaper was still the most viable source for information and was reluctant to trust news sites. It was a bit old-fashioned, but you liked that about him.

"Morning, dad." You said, pulling the orange juice from the fridge and pouring yourself a glass. He responded with a smile, a glance your way, and a good morning of his own.

"Are you going out today?" He asked from over his paper. You were dressed to go out, so it was more of an observation than a question.

Putting the juice back in the fridge and taking a sip of the crisp liquid, you nodded. "Figured I'd take my laptop down to the coffee shop and see if I can get some work done," you said. You had an essay to write and had been trying to get it done for a while now, but it felt like your room was blocking your creative flow. You hoped the change in atmosphere would help the essay along. You saw your father nod.

"Well, sounds good Hun." His endearing name for you made you smile as you drank the rest of the juice and put the cup in the sink. "Did you know they're making use of that little studio by the shop, you know, the one they haven't used in a while? I can't recall what they were filming though..." You feigned a moment's interest before bidding him adieu. A lot of modern movies didn't interest you much, but you supposed to each his own. You walked over to the entryway to pull on your coat, scarf, and gloves before leaving the front door unlocked behind you.

Within seconds you regretted leaving the house without a beanie. The wind wasn't particularly strong, but it was enough to whip your hair around and freezing cold to boot. Your nose felt frozen, your cheeks stung, and you couldn't quite feel your ears by the time you walked down the block and into the coffee shop. The toasty air inside and the strong coffee aroma immediately started working it's magic on you, warming you. 

You were looking up at the menu trying to decide between a warm tea and an actual coffee drink when you heard someone to your left ask, "Excuse me, are you in line?" You turned to them, about to tell them to go ahead in front of you, when you recognized the face smiling knowingly at you and smiled back. It was your Fitzgerald friend from a few days ago!

"Hey!" You said, surprised and undeniably happy for this coincidental meeting. You honestly hadn't expected to ever run into the man again. He smiled as he spoke your name in an almost questioning tone, as if asking if he remembered it correctly. You nodded. "Yeah, and Tom, right?" 

"That's it~ So, do you come to this place often then," he asked. It occurred to you that people sometimes used that question as a pick-up line, and you laughed internally. The way he asked didn't make it sound like a pick-up line all. The way he asked it made it sound like an actual question that a normal person would ask another normal person, and you appreciated that normalcy.

You nodded as if this were something to be proud of, raising your shoulders a bit and looking away. "Yeah, I've kinda been coming here for a few years now." You playfully bragged, then grinned when you looked at him and found him beaming down at you.

"A few years now, wow. So you were here long before the place started getting popular, eh?" His voice was light-hearted as well. He must have picked up on your own comical tone, because he played along. 

You shrugged as if it were nothing. "Yeah, I was practically the only one here for a while until others started following me in." You smirked, stretching the truth ever so slightly.

He nodded along, his smile a bit crooked. "Like a hipster?" That made you laugh, and you heard him echo you a bit as well. No one had ever described you as a hipster before. It was quite ironic actually, considering you generally avoided making a spectacle out of yourself and your interests. 

As you were laughing, the person behind the counter called for the next customer. "Oh," you started, not meaning to hold up the short line. "Uhm." You looked back up at the menu in a slight panic, trying to make a quick decision so you could order. 

"Do you like caramel?" Your eyes snapped back down from the menu to find Tom standing in front of the counter and looking questioningly at you. You couldn't really register what was happening but for fear of waiting too long to respond and looking like an idiot, you shrugged and nodded your head. 

"Yeah, I think so." You said, only thinking after you said it that yes, you actually did like caramel. There was no question about that! You had ordered caramel drinks before, yet when put on the spot you weren't sure of your own tastes. You heard Tom order two salted caramel coffee drinks. It wasn't until he had paid and was walking back towards you that it registered that he had just bought you a drink. "You really didn't have to buy it for me you know." You said, hating the feeling of imposing upon a stranger, no matter how good-natured. He waved you off.

"No, I insist! Besides, you look like you're going to be staying here a while, and I could use the company, so think of it as a tradeoff." He suggested with that same inviting smile, and you had no choice but to return it and thank him for his generosity.

"I really would have kept you company without the bribe," You went on, grabbing your now ready drink from the counter and walking with him towards an open table, "but I suppose I can just return the favor the next time we run into each other here." 

"I suppose you could." He agreed to your terms as the two of you took your seats. He then inquired about your messenger bag, noting that you didn't have your book with you today. You took out your laptop and told him about the essay you were trying to write as it booted up. You showed him the prompt and the research you had already started doing on the topic, the statistics you had gathered and the scholarly sources that you were proud to have collected. It was just writing the actual essay that was giving you problems. He latched onto your project instantly, expressing his fascination with your chosen topic and sharing his opinions. You spent a good hour brainstorming ways to go about the essay with him, and talking about the stance of the paper so much that you ended up tweaking your thesis to make it just a bit stronger. 

You shook your head, amazed at how much help Tom was. "Can I just call you whenever I'm stuck on an essay, because I swear I've been stuck on how to write this for two days and you just lay it out for me in an hour," you said, laughing lightly. He smiled at you. He seemed like such a happy person, for all the smiling he did. Again you swore that he looked familiar, and not just because you had met the other day, but you couldn't for the life of you figure out why.

"Well I'm here for work," He told you, "so if you have any more essays to write you better whip them out now." You were looking hard at him, and you didn't actually say anything until he asked, "What?" 

It had been a quietly nagging voice since you were in line together, but now that voice was being loud and persistent, likely because you swore you recognized the certain expression that he had just made from somewhere else. "I just feel like I've seen you somewhere before." You finally said. 

In all seriousness, Tom looked at you and motioned over his shoulder with his thumb. "Yeah, we met a couple days ago, remember? I wouldn't let you read in peace?" You huffed and his seriousness finally broke down. 

"No! I mean- Ah, never mind." You waved it off. It was a ridiculous thought anyway. Where else could you have possibly seen him? On the street maybe, but so what? Dropping the subject, you decided to redirect the conversation. "You said you were here for work? What kind of work are you doing?" You asked casually, sipping down the last drops of your now lukewarm drink.

Tom seemed to hesitate slightly before answering. "I'm actually doing some work in the studio down the street," he said. He was watching you carefully as he spoke, as if he were expecting some reaction out of you. You nodded.

"Oh, that's cool." He visibly relaxed at your casual response, and you found that a bit odd. Was he expecting you to be impressed that he was in the entertainment business? A job was a job in your mind. He was probably one of the guys that help a boom mic or something. You would have inquired further about his work, but he spoke up again after glancing at his watch. 

"Oh, I should really be getting back there soon. I'm usually too busy to leave at all, so it's lucky for me to be able to sneak out in the middle of the day like this." He apologized for leaving you, but you shook your head and waved him off. "I do hope we run into each other again before I leave though." 

You stood as he stood and gathered his few things. "When do you leave?" You asked, already toying with the idea of visiting his work place before he left just to say hello and maybe have him read over the essay that you planned to write out more thoroughly tonight.

"We should be here until mid-January." He said. You let out an "oh." and nodded. The two of you would likely run into each other again then if you both continued to get coffee from this shop like normal, so you probably wouldn't need to interrupt him at work anyway.

He said goodbye and opened one of his arms to you. You thought hugging him would be awkward, but you didn't want to be rude after he bought you a coffee and helped you so much on your essay, so you extended an arm and returned the hug. It actually wasn't all that awkward. You sat back down after he had left the shop and was out of your view, and looked at the outline of your essay on your laptop screen. Your hand wrapped around your empty coffee cup, and two things came to mind; the first being that this essay was going to kick ass. 

The second being that this caramel coffee drink was probably your new favorite brew.


	4. 12 Days 'Till Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where is that guy? After running into each other twice in the span of a few days, you had expected to see him at least once more in within the week. You had a debt to pay off, and you intended to do so even if that meant bringing it to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Great thanks to my beta who has officially joined the site with the username Capsicle! Hooray! *fireworks and confetti* She's read the chapter probably too many times by now, but I hope she clicks on this anyway so she can see just how grateful I am for her help! 
> 
> Let me take you for ice cream, Cap~ 
> 
> As for you guys, please enjoy the chapter! I'm getting more than 100 hits per chapter I think, which is basically blowing my mind. I suppose I'll owe you guys something special once we hit a big number. Maybe 1,000 or something? I don't know! If you have any suggestions or critiques regarding the story, please to leave me a comment~ Thanks as always!~

12 days. That's how long it had been since you'd last run into Tom at the coffee shop, not that you were counting. It was just that you'd been visiting the shop every morning you could afford to, and you had not yet been able to repay that coffee debt you had. Yeah, that was it, you didn't like being in debt. That's why your step lost its hopeful bounce when you entered the shop and he wasn't there, or why you couldn't quite enjoy your visits like you used to because you were constantly glancing at the door. It was the debt.

Then why did you spend so much time justifying your disappointment in your own mind? "Most people don't like feeling like they owe someone something," you told yourself frequently. Often you added, "besides, I want him to read the essay he helped me on. He'd want to glance at it, I'm sure," for good measure. This morning was no exception, as variants of these thoughts ran through your mind and you ate a bagel at the dining room table. Your father asked if you were heading to the shop, again. You shrugged, claiming that they had new holiday flavors that you wanted to try, although they hadn't had a new flavor you'd yet to taste in months.

As you made your way from the house to the shop, you made a firm decision; an oath even! 'If he isn't there today,' you told yourself, 'I'll grab two drinks and walk them over to the studio. Worst case scenario, he's too busy and I have two delicious drinks to myself.' You nodded to yourself and pushed open the door to the coffee shop, scanning the seating area and the counter. No sign of him. You ordered two drinks; a salted caramel coffee and a hot chai tea latte. Once they were ready, you took them with a thank you to the barista and left the shop, entering the chilling December air once again. As you continued down the street towards the studio, you ignored the faint knotting feeling in your gut.

'STUDIO 7' 

It looked like a large building from where you stood, the way it loomed over the sidewalk, but you knew it was relatively small as far as studios went. There was only one door on this side of the building. You tried to open it, but it was locked. Shifting the drinks so that you could knock, you pounded as hard as you could on the door. There was a moment of silence in which you considered knocking again before a blocky man in all black opened the door.

"This studio is private property," he said. His was voice strict and a bit rough.

"I- um, I'm a friend of Tom's? He's like, this tall, black hair, blue eyes? I- I brought him a tea." You glanced away from the man's heavy gaze a few times as you struggled to get your scrambled thoughts out into coherent sentences. It felt like the man was glaring at you when he suddenly barked, demanding your name. You tried not to jump and gave it to him. He shut the door in your face. He hadn't told you to wait, but you assumed that he was going to get Tom, so you took a few steps away from the door and lingered on the sidewalk. You shifted your weight between your feet and looked around awkwardly. You thought that maybe whistling a tune would make you regret this decision less, so you did. It didn't help much. It wasn't until the sound of the door opening again grabbed your attention and you saw Tom's face full of both surprise and happiness that you were glad you came. He exclaimed your name as he closed the door behind him and pulled up the collar of his coat to protect his neck from the breeze, and you greeted him with a smile. 

"What- what are you doing here?" He questioned you. You answered him by handing him a drink.

"I haven't seen you in a while. I was afraid they were working you to the bone over here." You took a sip of your drink, and as if he were following your lead, Tom took a sip of the drink you handed him through upturned lips. 

"Well, I have some time now- Mmm," He murmured into his cup, "What is this?" Tom started walking when he questioned the contents of his coffee cup, so you followed. 

You took another sip of your own. "It's a Chai Tea Latte, one of my favorite drinks that they make." You told him, looking up at his profile. He was looking down at his cup, and took another sip of it. When he pulled the cup away from his mouth, he licked his lips just a bit.

"I quite like it." He decided, and that filled you with a small sense of pride and accomplishment. "And is that Chai Tea as well?" He pointed at the drink in your hand, and you let out a short scoff, which earned you an amused look. 

"Oh no, this is a salted caramel coffee." You said matter-of-factly. 

Tom chuckled once beside you. "You little!" The two of you laughed a bit as you walked. You hadn't been paying much attention to where you were going, but you had ended up in a small shopping district on the east side of town. The windows of the shops each had their decorations up, some flashier than others but all emanating the same holiday cheer. The two of you glanced in the windows of the shops you passed as you chatted, sometimes commenting on the items on display. "This time of year is so nice." He spoke fondly after the two of you watched a mother and a father swing their little boy in-between them, the boy bounding off of the curb with an excitement that only a small child could possess. 

"Yeah, it is," you replied thoughtfully. It was a nice time of year. You never did anything special really, but it was still nice for everyone else, and the town seemed to love decorating for it. Your own home hadn't been decorated for the holidays for as long as you could remember. The last time you had really gone all out and celebrated Christmas, with the tree and the lights and the presents, was probably when you were around seven years old. After that though, your house kinda lost its Christmas cheer...

You had spaced out, staring blankly through your own reflection in a store front window while you reminisced, and you blinked quickly when you realized that Tom was silently standing beside you. He hadn't said anything, but rather just let you lose yourself in your memories for a moment. You blushed, embarrassed. "I like that scarf." You said, pointing at a blue scarf that was on display in the window as an attempt to draw away his attention. 

"Yeah, it's nice," Tom agreed, but you could feel his eyes still flickering over to you.

"Anyway," you moved on, shaking the ill feeling from your gut and walking on, "Are you going to go home for the holidays?" Your drink was starting to cool now that you were halfway through it, so you weren't really sipping it anymore. Matching your pace beside you, Tom shook his head. 

"I can't get the time away, so my family is flying in to spend it with me this year." He told you, and for some reason you were impressed. 

"Flying in? That's great, what a cool family. The wife and kids?" You asked casually. You might have been slightly fishing for information, but that's what people did when they were getting to know each other, right? You glanced sideways at him in time to catch his small smile. 

"No, no, my sisters actually." You nodded, muttering one of your "Oh"'s. Then it was his turn, and he turned towards you slightly as you walked. "What about you? Have you any great plans for this Christmas with anyone, special?" His infliction on the last word made you glare playfully at him, a tight smile on your lips while he looked proud of his own teasing.

"No." You looked straight at him and shook your head as you said it defiantly. "Most of my friend's leave for the holidays, and my family, well, they aren't all that into the celebration. I haven't REALLY celebrated Christmas in a long time." Your mouth skewed sideways when you finished. You realized it sounded kind of pathetic when you said it out loud, but it was already out there and there was nothing you could do about it now was shrug.

"Aww, that's no good," Tom spoke, and you shrugged again. You heard him continue without hesitation, "You should celebrate with me then."

 

When you finally got home that evening, you realized that you had forgotten to show Tom your essay. It was alright though, because for the first time in 13 years, you had Christmas plans.


	5. Master Commander

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You don't talk to your mother all that much. You love your father, but this isn't really something you'd bring up with him either, so when your cousin and good friend Vince texts you, you figure why not let him know what's been going on lately?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First and foremost, thank you Capsicle for your betas! Even when you're pretty busy with your own stuff, you somehow find the time to beta my super lame fics, and for that I kneel before you (huehuehue).
> 
> Also! I'm going to be posting another chapter in a day or so and then hopefully the Christmas Eve chapter in the fic will line up with Christmas Eve in real time. So more to come very shortly!

You sat at the desk in your room, scrolling the internet for cheap Christmas gift ideas. It was early morning and still about a week before Christmas, but you were too excited at the prospect of spending this Christmas Eve with a friendly face that you couldn't resist getting ahead of yourself. Inside your room it was dim, save for the light coming from your computer screen, and freezing cold. You had your blanket wrapped around your body, just your arm snaking out of the warm cocoon to click between web pages. 'Maybe a sweater,' you thought to yourself, hovering the cursor over a small image of a Holiday sweater. You snorted when the image zoomed in and the hideous design shone in all its frightful glory. You imagined him wearing the God awful thing, a silly smile plastered on his face despite it's horrendous pattern. 'Definitely not a sweater,' you scrolled on.

Tom was going to be too busy to leave work today. He'd told you that yesterday, seeming almost as disappointed about it as you were, though you tried not to show it so much yourself. If he was going to be busy, you thought you ought to be too. You wanted to find something nice for him, as both a Christmas present and as a way of showing your appreciation for his inviting you into his family for an evening. When you shared that bit about yourself, that your family hadn't celebrated in many years, you hadn't been looking for an invitation to share Christmas with him! You just found it easy to talk to him...

But you weren't about to deny the fact that you were excited. Hell, you were up at 7:23 in the morning looking for a gift for the man! There were a few good ideas you'd seen that you could make yourself, and a couple things you considered dipping into your savings to buy, but nothing that really stuck out to you. You only had a limited knowledge about the kinds of things you thought he'd like based on the conversations the two of you had had. Frequently you debated between getting or making him something practical or funny, but useless. You considered getting him a scarf or warm hat, but remembered that he was only here for work and that it might not be terribly cold where he lived.

You reached for your phone and scrolled through your contacts. Sam, Serra, Sid, Sir Nubbs, Tiff, Tina, Tom. He had given you his phone number yesterday before the two of you had parted ways. It made sense, considering you'd need to know where to go to celebrate in a week, and you couldn't rely on chance meetings at the coffee shop or catching him at a good moment at work. "Feel free to call or text me whenever you want. I might not answer right away, but I'll always get back to you," he had said. You chewed the inside of your cheek. You put your phone back down. There was a time for inquiring about what someone wanted for Christmas in the least subtle way, but something told you that 7:30 in the morning was not that time.

Instead you got up from your computer and decided to bundle up in some winter clothes rather than keep yourself trapped in a blanket. Warm pants, a long sleeved top, and a sweater wrapped around your body. A knitted cap and an old scarf kept you head and shoulders warm while thick fluffy socks made sure your toes were toasty. With your phone tucked neatly into your sweater pocket, you were finally prepared to brave the rest of the chilly house. 

Your mother and father were still asleep at this hour, so it was just you in the kitchen this morning. It being early and you feeling distastefully sluggish, you started a pot of coffee. It wouldn't compare to the stuff at the shop, but it would suffice. While waiting, you took the box of your favorite cereal from the cupboard and the carton of milk from the fridge. You then gathered a bowl and a spoon in your arms. In order to avoid a trip back to the kitchen until the coffee was ready, you balanced everything in your arms and walked it over to the table. You poured the cereal and milk into the bowl. Just as you were about to take a bite your phone buzzed in your pocket. There was a slight frown on your face as you set the spoonful of sugary sweet stuff back in the puddle of milk and fished your phone from your pocket.

~ New Text from Master Commander Vince ~ 

You rolled your eyes at the sight of your cousin's self-proclaimed title on your phone screen. Opening it, you smiled softly. 'Hey loser! I know I'm a couple weeks late or something, but I hope your birthday wasn't as lame as usual!' You shook your head at the text and then responded. You decided to tell him that you'd made a new friend on your birthday. You and your cousin didn't see each other very often in person, but when you did it was like you had never been apart. He was two years older than you. Growing up, he had felt more like a brother than a cousin. He lived across the country now, but he still checked up on you every now and then. If you were going to share the personal things in your life with anyone, it'd be him; even if he did call you names like you were a child.

A few minutes after you had sent your reply and mid-bite, your phone vibrated noisily against the table. 'A new pal, huh? Look at you, bein friendly and junk. What's their name?'

You told your cousin about Tom, and from there the conversation went in a different direction. 'Oh, a guy??' You took your bowl and spoon to the sink and put away the cereal and milk. 'What's he like?' You poured yourself a large cup of coffee. You liked talking to Vince about Tom, but you had a feeling this would take a while, so with your coffee you settled down onto the couch.

For a while you talked about Tom while also mentioning your school work and Vince's budding career. The conversation was pretty easy for the most part, until Vince decided to ask the tough questions. Well, question. You almost choked on your hot drink when you opened the text that just said, 'Is he good looking?' Heat seeped up your cheeks, and you looked around as if Vince had asked the question aloud and your parents were right around the corner. Sometimes you doubted you were actually 20 years old. 'He's like 30 Vince' you sent, but that didn't stop you from picturing Tom's face. 

Was he good looking? He was happy and kind, and those were attractive traits in a person in general, right? His hair was dark and kinda curly, and sometimes you wanted to touch it, so you supposed that meant you were fond of it. Yeah, he had nice hair. And his crystal blue eyes were always inviting and casual and they made you feel nice and at ease, so you'd say you liked them. Yeah, he had nice eyes. The more you thought about it the more you realized that yeah, you liked a lot of things about Tom, his appearance included. 

When Vince finally responded with, 'So? 30's not even old. I bet he's hot,' you laughed lightly and shook your head again. You grinned down at your phone and bit your bottom lip. You knew you had to be careful about how you responded.

'I don't know, maybe I guess' you typed out and sent. Then you sat and waited anxiously. It didn't take long for your cousin to respond.

'Aaaaaah he's a stud I knew it. Go get 'em~' You couldn't help mutter the good lord's name at your cousin's idiocy. Before you could respond, another text came in. 'Except don't let him touch you. That's gross.' 

You let out a laugh now, and checked the time. You'd been texting your cousin for a few hours it seemed, because now it was half past 11 and you could hear your father descending the stairs. 'Haha, I've got to go, chat with you later Vince~' you sent your cousin a last parting message, greeting your father with a smile and jumping up from the couch.

"Can I make you anything for breakfast, dad? Eggs maybe?" You offered cheerfully, pouring your father a cup of coffee and bringing it and the creamer to his seat at the dining room table. Your father watched you in surprise, sleep still in his eyes. He accepted the coffee with a thank you, but watched you suspiciously as you practically bounced back to the kitchen.

"What's got you so chipper this morning?" Your father inquired from behind you as your phone buzzed violently in your pocket. 'I'M SERIOUS GIRL DON'T LET HIM TOUCH YOU' You grinned, then put your phone away and collected the eggs from the fridge.

"I just slept really well last night, that's all." You called to your father, your smile hidden from his view. "Cheese with your eggs?"


	6. Underdressed And Out Of Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to meet Tom's sisters! Hopefully they won't turn out to be the prince's evil step-sisters...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Capsicle my queen, I thank you dearly for your most patient and constructive betas!
> 
> As for the rest of you, I do truly appreciate all your views, kudos, and the occasional comment! Comments are my favorite. I love to hear what you're thinking, and if you have suggestions, requests, criticisms, or whatever, please let me know! The next chapter after this one contains Christmas Eve festivities, and I'll be posting it sometime Christmas Eve evening~ Until then, enjoy~

You and Tom texted sporadically as the days leading up to Christmas Eve passed. Sometimes you asked how his work was coming along. If you didn't ask, he would text you, inquiring about your school work or even just your day in general. Sometimes you'd even talk on the phone, which was cool. It was nice because you were able to have a casual chat with him one minute and could transition into a serious conversation about a novel or theory you were working on the next. He really was terrifically easy to talk to about just about anything! Only once since you'd texted your cousin had you and Tom been able to meet up for coffee again. It was a brief but enjoyable visit. You found out where he was staying and that his sisters were in town and would be able to pick you up from your house on Christmas Eve to bring you over.

It was Christmas Eve now. It was 4:37 the last time you checked the time. You checked again. Now it was 4:38. Okay. You grabbed your coat from it's hanger in the entry way and checked your bag again to make sure you had everything you wanted to bring. The gift you got for Tom, plus two small things for his sisters because you didn't know what they'd like but you didn't want to leave them out either, were tucked in the bag amidst all the other things you deemed important enough to carry with you. His sisters were supposed to pick you up around 4:30, so you looked out the window by the front door hoping that they hadn't gotten lost. 

Thankfully, your parents had left a couple hours ago. They had a social event to go to and had assured you that they would be gone well into the night. Once again your mother had bothered you about not having a social life. Part of you was dying to shout about your plans for tonight just to shut her up, but a bigger part of you dreaded ever revealing Tom's mere existence to her, so you said nothing. 

You were just thinking about how awful it was to introduce your mother to anyone, let alone a man, when a honk pulled you out of your horrifying daydream. You whipped around and peered out the window to see a young woman waving out her car window from the sidewalk. "Must be them!" You said aloud, doing a quick double check of your possessions, before leaving your house and locking the door behind you.

"Hey!" The woman you saw waving before called, tacking on your name like a question. You smiled and nodded, getting in the back seat of the semi fancy blue car. When the ladies in the front turned back to introduce themselves, you noticed how pretty they both were and how nice they looked, and immediately you felt out of place. Still, you smiled politely.

"I'm Sarah, Tom's older sister." The woman with short, dark hair sitting behind the driver's wheel said with a smile and a small wave. You smiled back and gave a soft, "Hello." 

"And I'm Emma, the baby of the family." Your eyes then transferred to your original enthusiastic greeter. She was smiling widely at you, and you could see her older brother just a little bit in her face. It made you smile.

"Hi, I'm-" You started to introduce yourself as well, but Emma cut you off, saying your name for you. 

"Yeah, we know who you are! Tom has told us ALL about you." She said before winking. You were surprised to say the least, and you might have blushed a bit because Emma giggled and turned back around in her seat.

Sarah started the car and glanced back at you in the rearview mirror. "All good things, Darling, don't worry." Sarah reassured you, though you weren't so sure if that made it better or not. You heard Emma's light laugh in the front seat again, and looked into your lap, embarrassed. Sarah must have noticed, because she said Emma's name in an almost motherly tone, scolding her it seemed. 

"What," Emma sounded astonished, "It's true, he has! If it makes you feel any better, he told us to be extra nice to you, so he likes you enough to feel the need to try and keep his own sisters in line. Not that I'm ever not nice, you know." Emma went on, earning her a sideways glance from her sister. 

Sarah glanced at you again in the rearview mirror, this time catching your eyes. She sent you a sympathetic look. "Emma, you're not being very nice right now..." Sarah's tone wasn't so much scolding now as pleading. Emma turned in her seat to look at you as the car came to a stop at a red light. 

"Oh," she frowned slightly, seeing the mild distress in the furrow of your brow. "Sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. Really, I was only joking around." She apologized and you noticed Sarah's shoulders relax in the front seat as you told Emma that it was fine. Emma smiled kindly at you and turned to sit right in her chair again. After only a moment in heavy silence, Emma's voice filled the car again. "So we're meeting Tom at the restaurant and then going back to the hotel to hang out a while and be festive. Is that alright with you?" You nodded, though you hadn't known about going to dinner and hoped the restaurant wasn't too fancy. If it was, you were severely underdressed in your jeans and coat.

The drive was short, though Emma refused to let the conversation die down. It seemed that like her brother she was a natural born conversationalist, though maybe not as smooth as Tom was. You would have been fine riding in silence and staring out the tinted window, but her engaging you didn't bother you either. She was talking about the things she remembered doing with Tom and Sarah when they were kids around this time of year. The plays and musicals they would put on for their parents and anyone else who would watch. Sometimes Sarah would pipe in, but mostly Emma led the conversation. You actually enjoyed listening to her. You thought that the three of them putting on their own versions of Peter Pan as children sounded adorable, and a lot of fun. Briefly your mind wondered towards your own childhood, but quickly you shut that out and refocused on Emma's rattling. You refused to ruin the night by allowing certain memories to resurface. So you busied your mind with imagining a tiny Sarah, Tom, and Emma running around and playing in the snow like Emma described.

Finally, Sarah parked in front of a restaurant that from the outside didn't seem too terribly ritzy but it was definitely a nicer place. You voiced your fear of being underdressed, but Sarah told you not to be silly. Emma linked her arm through yours and pulled you with her towards the entrance of the restaurant.

The front doors were opened for the three of you, and right away you saw the back of Tom's slim figure in a form fitting black suit. He was facing another man that stood behind a podium. The man behind the podium glanced at you and said something to Tom to make him turn on his heels. 

Tom turned around, his brilliant blue eyes and shining smile landing squarely on you. He held in his hand three individual roses, all the same color as your now burning cheeks.


	7. White Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Eve festivities with Tom and the lovely sisters! Let the jingles play! Bring out the milk and cookies! Mistletoe? Oh my...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was fun to write and I'm happy to be able to present it to you tonight! Tomorrow it's likely that I'll be super busy (as it is Christmas after all) but hopefully I'll get some time to crank out a few more chapters for my beta~
> 
> Speaking of my beta... Much appreciation to Capsicle for for being the best darn beta I could ask for! I couldn't trust anyone else to beta my work like I do you. <3
> 
> Merry Christmas everyone! Much love and joy from Tom and I to you! Please, enjoy the chapter!~

Once you were able to stop feeling so flustered by Tom's normal gentlemanly gestures, the dinner was actually really fun. You watched Tom interact with his siblings, revealing a whole new side of playfulness that you hadn't seen before, and throughout the meal he and his sisters made you laugh. They picked on him in a loving way, and for the most part he endured their relentless teasing. "What can I do," he had once turned and asked you during the meal.

All three of them really did get along so well. They seemed to you like the perfect bunch of siblings. The sisters had their brother outmatched, but he put up a fair fight. It was endearing to watch, and you felt lucky to be able to be a part of it all.

Between an hour and two later, dinner was done and you weren't allowed to even glance at the check. Actually, Tom and Sarah fought over who would pick it up, while Emma leaned over to you and told you that she never got to pick up the check either, so not to feel left out. "Ready to go?" Tom finally asked the table, looking to you last and letting his eyes rest on yours. You smiled and nodded, thanking him and his sisters for everything. You were waved off by every member of the tight knit family almost in unison. The off hand gesture made you smile and feel at ease as the four of you walked outside.

"Tom, Emma and I need to make a stop before we head back to the hotel, so you guys go ahead of us, alright?" Sarah suggested in her own slightly formal tone that was, as you now knew, normal for her. Emma however was a tad bit more childish than her older sister, and so did a little hop and a skip over to the blue car you had arrived in and waved her fingers at you with a mischievous grin playing on her lips. You were suspicious, but not for long.

Tom's voice pulled your attention from his younger sister. "Sure," he replied, then added that it was only okay if it was alright with you. You laughed.

"Well sure, why wouldn't it be?" There were a few reasons why going back to an older man's hotel room alone wouldn't be okay, but you didn't believe any of them applied to your situation. In your heart you believed Tom to be an upstanding guy who would never do anything questionable. That aside, you knew that you yourself were not exactly the type of woman that someone would jump to take advantage of. There were sexier fish in the sea, you were certain.

Like usual, Tom smiled at everyone and he and you parted ways from his sisters, walking down the street. You hadn't gone far before you reached a small red car you could only assume was his by the way he unlocked and pulled open the front passenger door for you. "Thank you," you said, pulling a small, mock curtsy before settling into the seat. You heard him laugh once and then shut your door. In your hands you held the rose that he had handed to you when you first walked into the restaurant. You lifted it to your nose and breathed in it's subtle smell as your eyes followed Tom around the front of the car. He had gotten one for all three of you, so it wasn't like you were particularly special. Still, you liked to think that the rose he'd handed you had the strongest scent.

Tom got into the driver's seat and started the car. As he eased it out of the parking spot, you glanced out the window. "So now what?" You watched a single snowflake land and melt on the window and wondered how hard it would snow tonight. Enough for a white Christmas, maybe? 

"Well," Tom started, glancing over at you though your attention was focused out the window, "There's eggnog and ornament shaped sugar cookies in my hotel room, I think that speaks for itself." You nodded, smiling, and shifted in your seat to face forward. Looking at Tom's profile, you found yourself admiring it more than you had before. 

Tom glanced your way, catching your stare and almost smirked, so you coughed into your hand. To get the attention off of yourself like you liked to do, you said, "You know, Emma was so talkative on the way to the restaurant. She told me so much about you, Tom!" Your voice hiked in exaggeration as you spoke. Tom's brow furrowed in worry, and he groaned. Tentatively he asked what Emma had said, so you casually recounted a bit of the conversations you and Emma had had about young Tom. He verbalized distress, but the two of you laughed about it the entire ride, still chuckling as Tom lead you though the hotel's lobby and to the elevator. The hotel itself was pretty nice. The room was nicer. It was bigger than just a room; it was more like a little apartment. It had a small kitchen, dining room, and living room that branched off on both sides to reveal a large bedroom and spa type bathroom to the left, and a bedroom with two beds and its own mini kitchen and bathroom to the right. You knew this because as soon as you walked in you started poking your nose everywhere. You'd never seen a hotel room quite as swanky as this one. Whoever Tom worked for, they really took care of their employees. 

Tom was kind enough to wait for you to satisfy your own curiosity, sipping a glass of eggnog and leaning against his kitchen counter while you explored, ooh'd, and ah'd. When you finally came back to earth and remembered not to act like such a child, you went to the kitchen and smiled somewhat sheepishly. "Sorry," you apologized, "I like your... this." You waved your hand about, gesturing to the hotel room rather than just naming it. Tom huffed in amusement and held a tray of cookies in your direction.

"Sugar cookie? Eggnog?" He offered you the treats he had mentioned on the ride over, but you kindly declined. He shrugged, but then looked as though something had dawned on him and hurriedly put his drink down. He moved into the living area in just a few long strides, and you watched curiously while he grabbed the remote and clicked on the television. "While we wait," he started, flipping through channels while you walked over in much smaller steps, "let's play some festive tunes!" He stopped on a music channel just in time for the two of you to catch the final string of notes of one song before the next started playing. 

A simple piano melody starts playing, and instantly Tom's eye's light up. He turns on you, and you look back at him, a little worried about what he's going to say next. "I'm," he sings along with the television, and you cover your smile with your hand as he continues, "dreaming of a white Christmas~" His voice isn't perfect, but you're too distracted by the fact that he's singing and smiling and not letting you break eye contact as he slides over to you. He has a hand extended towards you. You look between it and his happy eyes, fighting your own smile. "Let's dance." 

"No, I'm not- I'm- No." You shake your head and muttered nonsensically. He was doing it again - that thing where he's just being himself but it makes you makes you nervous anyway. Looking the way he did in his slim black suit, you reasoned that he would make just about anyone feel nervous.

Tom pouted slightly. "Why not?" He took another step toward you, slumped his shoulders, and tilted his head. "Where the treetops glisten~ And the children listen~ Come on!" He serenaded, and though you shook your head you let him take your hand in his.

"I don't know how, Tom." It was your final attempt to talk him out of dancing in the middle of the hotel room, but of course it didn't work. 

Tom's hand fell lightly on your waist. "It's easy," he assured you gently, his breath fanning against your forehead and down your cheeks. Your eyes were glued to the floor, watching your feet follow Tom's with uncertainty. You dreaded stepping on his toes, but evidently this was perfectly relaxed for him, because it wasn't long before you could hear Tom's chest rumbling as he hummed along to the song. You laughed a little bit. 

Looking up at him from beneath your lashes, you mused, "Is this how you spend every Christmas Eve?" He looked down at you then and flashed a soft smile.

"I would if I could." His voice was barely above a whisper, and you found yourself forgetting about your feet. Your thoughts were locked on his breathtakingly vivid blue eyes. Your heartbeat picked up and your breath caught in your throat. You didn't dare look away from his eyes as they slowly drew closer to your own; painfully, heartbreakingly slowly closer...

The sound of the front door unlocking had you jumping, literally, feet away from Tom. You were catching you breath as Emma and Sarah came through the front door with bags hanging on their arms and grins plastered on their faces. "We come bearing decorations!" Emma cheered enthusiastically, dropping her bags on the kitchen counter and throwing you a smug look. "I hope we aren't interrupting." You could feel your face flush. 

"Nonsense!" Tom was quick to fill the room with offhanded ease. "Show me the decorations you picked up!" Emma's attention turned to showing off her decor expertise, and you could finally breathe again. Sarah brought a bag your way and asked you to help her start putting up some wall decorations.

Like that, the mood in the room had changed. The four of you spent the next few hours decorating the hotel room, listening to Christmas jingles, drinking eggnog, eating cookies, exchanging presents, and laughing more than you could ever remember.


	8. Is Age But A Number?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're not oblivious to the age gap between this budding romance, and neither is Tom. Will a few years throw a wrench in your relationship, or is age but a number after all?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, I know, but I wanted to give the first of a few chapter's in Tom's perspective and it happened to turn out short and contemplative. I also wanted to give a small insight to Tom's feelings and such and such~ Don't worry though! I won't let Tom's head over heels love rush the story; at least I'll do my best. <3
> 
> Much love and thanks to Capsicle who beta'd! I know I haven't gotten a chapter to you in a while, but I'm working on them currently! <3

"We'll get her home safely! Promise!" Emma practically sang. 

Tom might not have trusted Emma 100%, but he did trust Sarah, so he waved and smiled as he watched you leave with his sisters. It was around two in the morning now. As much as he would have liked to drive you home himself, he wasn't usually up this late when he'd been up working before the sun, so it was safer to let his sisters drive you. He went into his room and sat at the edge of his bed. He was exhausted, and not just because of the hour.

It was draining, wanting so much to do one thing and having the strength to control himself. He'd always been a hopeless romantic, and he knew it. He'd fallen fast and hard before, but never quite like this. He had worried for a while that he might have scared you off when your dance had taken such an intimate turn, but oh how he had wanted to kiss you. He'd wanted to greet you with a kiss when you showed up to the restaurant, hold your hand as you walked beside him towards his car, lift up your chin mid-dance and bring your soft lips to his... 

Tom shook his head, eyes closed tightly. He knew he needed to stop thinking about a girl so much younger than himself in such an indecent way, especially since he had no idea how you felt about the whole thing. But it was hard. You were smart, funny, thoughtful, kind-hearted, and beautiful. You had your opinions and you stood up for them in such an intelligible way that he found it amazingly attractive. When your cheeks would take on a rosy hue in his presence, it always made him swell just slightly with pride. He wanted to get to know you better, but as something more than your friend. 

He slid the sleek black vest off, letting it land on the floor at the foot of his bed. His fingers started at his collar and trailed down his torso, buttons popping undone as they went. Sighing heavily, Tom pushed off his bed and headed toward his shower, his white button-up falling to the ground behind him. As the water warmed he thought about you again, but this time he tried to think logically. He knew you were 20 years old, you had told him so. He himself was going to turn 30 in less than two months. "God." He groaned, dragging his palm over his face. It was a decade age gap. You were so young. And yet for all the arguing he did with himself, when he felt his fingers graze his lips, he couldn't help but instantly want to feel your lips there instead. 

'I'll ask Em and Sarah in the morning,' Tom decided as he unbuttoned his pants and let them fall around his ankles. He'd see what they thought of you and what they suggested he do. Emma would hopefully have a feel for what you were feeling; she was usually good at figuring out other people. As for the reasonable course of action, Sarah always had the most level head out of all of them. He didn't know who he dreaded talking to more. All he knew was that happiness was automatic whenever you were in the room, and that was something he hadn't experienced in a long time.

The water was hot as it ran over Tom's body. Steam rose and rolled out of the shower as he rubbed hotel body soap over his chest and shoulders. He couldn't think about you anymore, at least not tonight. He was exhausted.


	9. Hiddleston?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to one rude awakening due to a frightful flashback and shocking discovery by chance, you find yourself wide awake and pretty pissed on Christmas Day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm looking at a few pretty busy days ahead of me, so I don't know when I'll be posting again... No worries, there's no chance of me dropping the story, at least not now anyway. I just know that Cap and I both might have our hands tied in the next few days. I love this story though and I really love the support I've gotten for it. It means a lot, guys!
> 
> And Cap, thanks again for doing this with me. I know you're super busy with your own stuff, so I can't express how grateful I am for your help and support and all that super lame gushy stuff. <3

You were wringing your pudgy fingers together against your chest. The air was cold. There was a brisk breeze that chilled your cheeks and carried your frisbee across the street. A light snow danced in the air. It was just the kind of Christmas the two of you had been praying for. Despite this, dread hummed in the pit of your stomach. Your round eyes followed your frisbee until it landed three quarters of the way across the street. Then you noticed the other kids. In the yard across from yours stood two little boys. They were watching you. Were they the reason you felt so uneasy? You hated people looking at you. It was paralyzing.

"It's okay! I'll get it!" You heard your older sister's chime before you saw her. Looking to the side, your eyes found hers; warm and brown, like you'd always remember. She smiled at you as she jogged by, her smile as innocent and loving as always. She'd always had a way of knowing when you felt uncomfortable and putting your worries to ease. Yet for all that, the feeling of dread in your stomach was getting stronger. You watched Wendy hop off the curb.

"Wendy." Your breath materialized in front of you. You'd wanted to shout, but it had only come out as a whisper. The dread in your gut turned to panic in your chest but for all the chaos in your heart your body wouldn't move. You could look down at your younger self now. You'd been here before; seen this tragedy play out. Eyes wide and muscles fighting with all their strength you tried to get your eight year old self to move but you couldn't. 

Nor could you look away as the small black car with tinted windows whirred around the corner and shot through your sister like a bullet. With one bang and unyielding, it sped away and left Wendy mangled and still in the snowbank.

***

When your eyes flew open, you were sitting upright and rigid in your bed and your throat was sore. You gasped for air as you brought a shaky hand to your clammy chest. Looking around as you caught your breath, you squinted and made out some of the tangible things in your room. The dim light from the window illuminated your desk and your laptop. The empty can of lemonade from earlier still sat beside your alarm clock next to your bed. Your coat was still hung over the edge of your dirty clothes hamper because you hadn't been able to decide whether it was too dirty to wear or not dirty enough to wash. Looking between the things in your room grounded you; it helped you come back to the present.

You hadn't had a nightmare like that in years. Then again, you hadn't celebrated Wendy's favorite time of the year or experienced snowfall since the day you lost her. You shuddered as you let her name pass through your mind, but squeezed your eyes shut when her face threatened to resurface. "What time is it? Where's my phone?" You spoke aloud to distract yourself, searching around for your cell phone. Finally its light illuminated your damp face with a time of '6:12 am' glaring at you. You'd gotten less than three hours of sleep but it wasn't as if you'd be able to go back to bed now.

Accepting that you'd just have to get a little extra sleep tonight to make up for the lack of sleep last night, you got out of your bed and opened your blinds. The light outside wasn't strong, but it was enough to make your room glow. You grabbed a change of clothes from your closet and went into your bathroom. You were up and you were sticky. Maybe a nice, long shower would clear your mind and relax your still tense muscles. At the very least, it would wash away the tears stubbornly streaming down your face.

***

Hair in a towel and wrapped in your warmest robe, you made your way downstairs to start up a pot of coffee and hopefully relax. It was Christmas morning, and yet your home looked the same way it did all year long. From the kitchen, you could look out the windows to the backyard and see the neighbors Christmas lights from over the fence. They weren't on, but you looked at those bulbs while listening to the coffee pot bubble and pop. You couldn't even think about your sister. You were too exhausted already to do anything more than stare into space and be serenaded by the brewing coffee. 

Your feet dragged as you shuffled from the kitchen to the living room, a large mug of steaming coffee warm against your chest. You weren't hungry. You just wanted to sit down and drink your coffee and distract yourself. Usually when you wanted to escape reality, you read. But this morning you didn't trust that you'd be able to focus enough to read, so instead you plopped onto the couch and reached for the remote. You'd flip channels for a while and hope that something grabbed your attention. "Only $99.99," an advertisement for lawnmowers shouted. "I like to add a little butter myself," some woman informed you while putting an entire stick of butter into a sizzling pan of otherwise healthy looking greens. You kept flipping, looking for something, until you landed on a preview for an upcoming movie.You only stayed on the channel for a moment when you recognized Chris Hemsworth evidently playing the lead role in this super hero movie. You rolled your eyes. You only knew Hemsworth because your mother gushed about him every time he came out with a new movie or was just caught leaving his house by the paparazzi. You were about to click away when your thumb froze.

"Father." On the screen someone who you swore bore a striking resemblance to Tom spoke one word in two seconds of screen time. Even in such a brief moment you were shocked, thinking it must be a mistake but watching the preview closely and with wide eyes for another glimpse of the man you thought looked a lot like the man you had celebrated Christmas Eve with. You paused the tv on a close up of the man's face. You muttered the lord's name under your breath as you stared at your television set. The hair was long and the outfit was outlandish, but you were 99% certain that the character you were looking at and Tom were one in the same.

You let the trailer play on to get the name of the movie before hurrying upstairs. Your coffee almost spilled when you dropped it onto your desk and threw open your laptop. 

Google: Thor cast

Immediately an IMBd page for Thor popped up. You clicked it. It didn't even take much scrolling for you to find the name Tom Hiddleston across from the character name Loki. "Hiddleston?" You whispered questioningly, realizing you had never bothered to ask Tom his last name. You clicked the link that was the name and exhaled in confirmed shock when your Tom's picture popped up. You leaned back in your chair, staring at your laptop screen with arms dangling at your sides. You'd known he was working at the studio. He hadn't thought it a fun fact worth mentioning that he was co-starring in a big Marvel production? Who opts out of mentioning something like that? 

You opened a new window, the steam from your coffee for once failing to calm you down. Fine, if he had opted out of telling you who he really was, you'd find out yourself.

Google: Tom Hiddleston.


	10. Phone Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, Tom sits down with his sisters to discuss a very heavy matter on his mind: you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that I took a rather long break in posting chapters, at least for me anyway. I apologize for this! I have quite a few, heavy college courses this semester, so it really is hard for me to find the time to write and edit works for fun. This weekend, I plan to upload these two chapters, and hopefully (and if it's all well with you) upload a one-shot! I'm thinking Tom, but I could do others from primarily the Avengers Cast (Or Cumberbatch just because) if you like. Seriously, comment a one-shot you might like and I might write it up! 
> 
> Lastly, thank you to my BETA Capsicle, and thanks to everyone who reads my work! I appreciate your hits, kudos, and comments! Thank you finally for your patience with me, and enjoy these chapters!

“Your table is ready, right over here.” Tom walked between his sisters, following the hostess of the hotel’s breakfast café to their table. Sitting beside Emma and across from Sarah, Tom ordered a black coffee and ran what he wanted to say like lines in his head for the fourth time this morning. He’d decided two nights ago that he would talk to his sisters about you, but until now he hadn’t gotten the chance to sit down and chat with both of them at once.

Across from him, Tom could tell that his older sister knew something was on his mind, so he offered her what he hoped came across as a casually reassuring smile. She smiled back, but he knew she wasn’t convinced. Beside him, Emma requested a tall glass of Orange juice. Once the server had his back turned, she whipped around to face Tom. “So, are you really serious about her?” Tom couldn’t help let out a small laugh as Emma said your name. Whether it was from the fact that Emma had so easily and bluntly guessed what he was going to talk about or maybe just the sound of your name itself, Tom found himself smiling down at his own hands. 

While Emma giggled beside him, Sarah as always voiced the same concerns that he’d been unable to ignore for days now. “She’s quite young.” Sarah said it simply, with neither sanction nor censure in her tone. Even so, Tom felt his smile falter and fall from his face. 

“Too young, do you think?” He asked despite being fearful of what she might say. He looked up at her from beneath furrowed brows in worry, but all she did was tilt her head slightly and look at him as if to say that it was something he had to decide for himself. And Tom was sure that that was what she was thinking: it would be up to him to maneuver through the twists and turns of forging a relationship with someone so young. Still, if Sarah wasn’t going to advise him to resist his growing feelings for you, Tom wasn’t sure he’d be able to do it.

Beside him, Emma waved Sarah off in a grand, almost whole-body gesture. “Poppycock! Love knows no boundaries, right Tom? Age is just a number? And anyway, with Tom’s rising fame and all, it’s going to be hard for him to find another girl who doesn’t already know his name.” Emma cooed, clearly enjoying herself in her teasing. Tom smiled, fine with taking the teases from his baby sister, and shouldered her lightly. With Emma encouraging him like this, Tom could feel his resolve crumbling quickly. 

“What do you mean-“ Sarah had started, but paused to offer the waiter a grateful smile as he set down their drinks, “What do you mean, another girl who doesn’t already know? Does she not know about your role?” Tom sighed despite Emma’s short scoff.

“Well, not exactly,” he couldn’t even pretend that he didn’t recognize the shocked disappointment, so he hurried to explain himself further. “She asked once what my work was, and I told her I was working in the studio! She just- We talked a while and she’s really so unique and she didn’t know about the movie but she stuck around anyway and…” Tom didn’t really know where he was going with his long winded explanation, and that was probably because he knew he didn’t have a real reason at all.

He should have told you. He knew it, and so did Sarah. “You have to tell her soon. She won’t like it if she finds out from seeing your face on the television or something. Seriously,” Sarah paused, giving Tom a look that quite reminded him of their mother before sighing, “you should call her.”

Tom nodded, and as if on cue, his phone started vibrating and ringing in his pocket. Wriggling a bit to get his hand into his pocket and retrieve his phone, he was surprised to see his co-star’s name lit up on the screen. He excused himself from the table to step just outside the café. 

“Hey, Chris, what’s going on?” Tom answered his phone, looking around casually and leaning against the café’s outer wall. Chris didn’t usually call so early, and the two of them had today off in fact. Tom wondered briefly if something was wrong, but he doubted it. It was more likely that they were going to have to go in today after all for some final touches, which would really put a damper on breakfast with the sisters. On the other end of the line, Chris sounded especially enthusiastic for some reason.

“Hey Tom, you won’t guess who I ran into at that coffee shop you kept talking about! I mean, I know you met her here, but I didn’t think I’d meet her here too!”


	11. An Unanticipated Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom must have been incredibly detailed when telling his famous co-star what you looked like, because when Chris Hemsworth taps you on the shoulder and knows your name, you know something's up. You hadn't planned on talking to or about Tom, at least not in your current emotional state, but maybe Chris' sweet demeanor and kind words can calm you down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second of the two chapters that I promised tonight. I'll try to get some other small things up this weekend, as well as write up another chapter or two. No promises on those though, as I have some heavy psychology work to do, but I'll try my best!
> 
> Much love to Capsicle and everyone reading this. <3

It had been a great surprise; serendipitous even perhaps. You waited leaning against the wall of the coffee shop, not really believing your situation. Just outside the shop doors, Chris Hemsworth was talking quickly on his phone and occasionally glancing back at you. It was weird; he had walked in, asked if you were you and introduced himself, then excused himself but told you not to leave. Honestly, if you hadn’t just found out that Chris and Tom were working together, you probably would have split by now. However, you had a good idea that he had called Tom. After all, how else would someone like Chris Hemsworth know who you were? Who else would he bother to call right now? 

You looked down at the iced drink in your hand. You’d wanted to cool down a bit with a chilled drink, but of course you regretted it now. Your fingers were practically turning blue. Besides that, you’d hardly been able to bring the drink to your lips more than a handful of times. The caramel was too sweet at the moment. You made the circular motion with your wrist that you often did with your hot drinks to swirl the liquid around, but this drink was too thick which made your mood sink a little lower. It felt a little weird, having Tom’s actor friend know about you while you felt like you hardly knew anything about him. It made you frown, and you could feel tears starting to form in your eyes

You’d been staring at your cup and trying not to get emotional for no good reason when Chris’s Australian accent broke your concentration. “Something the matter,” he asked kindly, saying your name as if you were old friends. That at least helped you fake a smile. 

“I’m fine! No, I’m fine. It’s just…” You considered confiding in Chris for an extremely brief moment, but changed your mind. “Do all up and coming actors get their coffee from little corner street coffee shops?” Chris smiled at the question and the playful tone with which you had asked it. He pulled up at the collar of his sweater and glanced around, acting as if you had just revealed his top secret location to the press.

“We get out when we can.” He smirked, then shrugged. “No, it’s not so hard now, but my agent warns me that casually going out will be harder after the release of,” he paused and leaned closer to whisper, “Thor.” 

You laughed softly and Chris leaned back. “Right, Thor. He’s some sort of a God, isn’t he? I hope the role doesn’t go to your head.” You pointed up at his head as you spoke, still marveling at just how massive the man seemed in comparison to your own stature.

He looked aside, somehow managing to look like he was smiling with his eyes. It was really endearing to see, you thought to yourself, and wondered how in the world he could be so happy in such a crushingly cold place as your hometown. “Ha, no, between my brothers and my wife, there’s no room for a bigger head than I’ve already got.” He said, and suddenly you thought you knew why he might be so happy.

“Wife? You’re married?” Last you had heard from your mother, Chris was ‘a smokin’ hot bachelor’, and that couldn’t have been more than a couple months ago at best! You watched as his already wide grin managed to get wider and brighter, and he lifted up his hand to reveal a gold wedding band. 

He wiggled his fingers once in childlike glee. “Elsa. We just married earlier this month. She’s an actress, but she’s amazingly down to earth and she really keeps grounded. It’s why I fell in love with her! I think that’s why Tom likes being around you, too.” You were smiling as the super sweet guy talked so lovingly about his brand new wife, but your smile broke when he suddenly brought Tom up. You were clearly caught off guard and without words, so Chris quickly spoke again. “Sorry, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable! It’s just that Tom really has spoken fondly of you - since the day he met you actually.” 

“The day he met me?” You repeated the words, a bit stunned by them. Sure, he had left an impression on you that first day, but that was because he was charming and insistent and dared to poke and prod at your favorite author while you were reading one of his very works! But you, what good could anyone have to say about you after one short meeting like that? That you were antisocial and argumentative were the only things you could imagine he would have taken from that meeting.

Chris told a different story, somehow. “He told me that day that he’d met a lovely young woman while getting coffee. He’d said that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d met someone as vehemently passionate about someone like Fitzgerald. You know-“ Chris cut himself off, sounding as if he had more to say but looking like he just remembered that he wasn’t supposed to say it. 

You quirked your brow, wanting to know everything that Tom had said about you that first day. “I know…” You tried to help him along, but he just waved you off to your dismay. 

“Any way, he really did like you right away. He was annoyingly excited about running into you a second time; I know because he was almost smug about it when he came back and told us all in hair and make-up.” Chris laughed, and you tried to smile along as you nodded. The reminder that Tom was this big, rising star and he hadn’t even told you was weighing at the corners of your mouth again. You kept asking yourself if you were over-reacting… Being an actor is like any other job, wasn’t it? Isn’t that what you’d been telling people for years? So why would it be a big deal that he was playing the villain Loki in a new Marvel production? No big deal… So why were you upset that he hadn’t told you about it?

Chris must have been able to read you like a book, because he put a hand on your arm and when your eyes found his, they were understanding. “Tom’s had bad experiences with women who already knew his name. He was afraid that if you recognized him, he would lose the you that he wanted to get to know so badly.” A moment of quiet passed as you considered what Chris had said, and then he spoke again, but not as softly as before. “I’m not saying it wasn’t stupid! I told him from the beginning to be honest, I did. But, go easy on him, eh?” He put a hand up to the side of his mouth in a show of telling you a secret and whispered, “Between you and me, Tom’s a real hopeless romantic.”

You didn’t need a mirror to know that your cheeks went red and your eyes were indisputably circle shaped now rather than normal. He was chuckling, and you found yourself giggling as well as you waved your hands slightly and begged him to stop. You were hiding your burning face behind your frosty drink and shushing the still bursting Chris when the jingle of the front doors made your eyes dart that way instinctively for only a second. 

You did a double take, lowering the drink slowly as your eyes locked with Tom’s.


	12. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom realizes that perhaps he waited a bit too long to tell you about his career of choice, and hurries to the coffee shop in hopes of catching you and explaining himself before it's too late. You're angry (as you have every right to be!), but maybe Tom can redeem himself yet!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps this chapter is a long time coming, and I hope I didn't lose too many of you in the wait, but at last it is here! I want to say thanks again to those of you still reading; you all are the best, and I appreciate every comment, kudo, and bookmark unbelievably!
> 
> This Chapter is dedicated to Triin, who left me a crazily kind and motivating comment just a short while ago. I had this chapter already in the works, and your comment gave me the smile and the push I needed to get it up here, so thank you so much!
> 
> Much love to Capsicle, who is about to be bombarded with unedited chapters to beta. She puts up with me more than she should have to, so seriously guys, give her a little love. Without her, these chapters would either be nonexistent or so riddles with errors that you'd hunt me down and take me out yourselves. <3
> 
> Now, without further adieu, the chapter~

Tom smiled and waved at you and Chris. He started weaving toward you, through the tables and people sipping their drinks, and when he glanced over again you smiled tentatively. Your mind reminded you that Tom wasn’t exactly at the top of your list right now, but your insides felt oddly guilty. Quickly, you reassessed your situation to remind yourself that you weren’t the one in the wrong here. 

Tom lied to you. Well he didn’t lie, but he certainly didn’t tell the truth. While it wasn’t like you two were dating or married or anything like that, you had thought you were becoming friends and at the very least friends didn’t keep such big things a secret. 

Also, to reiterate, the two of you were not in any way dating. Glancing at Chris, you reminded yourself that hanging out with guys other than Tom wasn’t something you had to feel guilty about. On top of that, Chris was a married man who was ridiculously adorably in love with his new wife. So even if you were in some sort of exclusive relationship with Tom it wasn’t as if having a coffee with his married friend was breaking any kind of unspoken rule. 

Mentally, you swept away all the thoughts that were running amuck in your mind. It was a moot point! You weren’t in a relationship with anyone so you didn’t understand why you felt guilty as if you did!

You looked over again to see that Tom was almost to you. You didn’t want to talk to him at the moment. “Chris,” you pat Chris’s wide shoulder and smiled, “Thanks for chatting with me, but I’m gonna go now.”

“Wait, but Tom-“ Chris started to protest, glancing over to Tom before looking back to you. You held your smile, but shook your head. 

“It was nice meeting you, really. We should get coffee again sometime.” You nodded, then turned and made a beeline away from Tom. You heard him call your name, but you didn’t look back. As much as Chris had calmed you down, you still weren’t happy. 

Pushing the coffee shop’s door open invited a blast of icy wind to assault your cheeks. Your hair blew behind you before falling back around your ears. When you passed a trashcan on the side of the street, you tossed your barely touched drink and with your now free hands wrapped your arms across your chest as you marched. You hadn’t gotten far before your heard the jingle of the bells on the coffee shop’s door ring again, and when you heard your name being called you picked up your pace. Why would he follow you? A few things must be clear to him by now: You knew who he was and what he was doing, and you certainly weren’t pleased with him. So why in the hell would he bother following?

When you heard his voice say your name again, it was close. You glanced over your shoulder to find him walking only a few feet behind you, and your eyes widened for a split second in surprise. “Jesus, you’re fast!” You muttered, facing forward again and pushing against the wind. 

He said your name again, and it was really annoying the way that alone ate away your anger. “Will you just let me talk to you?” He asked, walking on your right. You could feel him looking at your profile, but you refused to acknowledge him. He disappeared for a moment only to reappear on your left. “Please? You’re storming through town, and it’s freezing, and you’re going to catch a cold if you don’t stop for a minute and listen to me.” 

You stopped then and turned on him. “Catch a cold?! Really?” You glared up at him, irritated with the small smile on his lips and the way it made your stomach feel funny. He looked down at your neck, and instantly you realized what he was looking at. Even before he said that he liked your scarf you were cursing yourself for wearing it. It was going to be hard to be furious with him for long while wearing the beautiful scarf that he had bought you for Christmas, after having invited you into his family to celebrate.

Still, you sighed and kept your arms crossed in front of you. “You know, it’s weird when you think you’re getting to know someone and then suddenly you see them on your TV and it turns out, you don’t know the first thing about them!” You laughed cynically. There was no point in hiding the fact that this had hurt you; not under those eyes. Again, he said your name, but you looked away and continued. “I don’t- I don’t let people in very often, Tom, it’s just not something that’s easy for me to do so… Can I ask why? Why wouldn’t costarring in a major Marvel production be like, your opening line or something? Why hide it?” It made absolutely no sense to you, and if nothing else, that was all you wanted to know. 

Tom held his hands towards you, palm up and surrendering. “I know, I’m sorry. I was going to tell you,” he insisted. You shifted your weight and looked up disbelievingly.

“Were you?” Attitude saturated your voice, and while it felt odd and out of place, you tried to keep it in place.

“I was going to tell you when I asked you to the premier.” He explained himself like the words coming out of his mouth were completely normal, but you couldn’t really believe what you were hearing.

“The premier?” You exclaimed about as soon as he finished his sentence. “When were you going to invite me to that?”

“Okay, okay,” Tom made motions with his hands for you to quiet down. “Could we please talk somewhere a little less… Public?” When he said that, you looked around. You hadn’t noticed before, but evidently your short lived outburst had begun attracting attention. People were walking by very slowly, their eyes watching you curiously. 

You cursed under your breath. “Come on then.” You muttered, flashing the bystanders a glare before continuing down the street. You were almost to your house any way, and you certainly didn’t want to turn back to the coffee shop. Might as well just go home. It was midweek and midday, so both of your parents would be out of the house. 

Marching up your front porch steps, you fished your house keys out of your jacket pocket and looked back. Tom was still walking casually on the sidewalk, approaching your home with his hands in his pocket and looking over the front of your house. You found yourself watching him catch up with you. You hadn’t noticed before the way his outfit was somehow both casual and still nice and how good it looked on him. He wore clean jeans and a dress shirt – did he always dress so nicely? More importantly, did it always have to catch your breath like this? 

You shook your head and turned back to the door, fumbling with your key a minute before finally opening the door. “Come in, make yourself at home.” You said, though not all that cheerfully. You didn’t really have it in you to be angry about it anymore; in truth you were never angry so much as hurt anyway. 

You walked straight from the entry way, past the living room, and into the kitchen. Since you hadn’t really touched the drink you’d bought from the shop, you felt a disturbing lack of caffeine in your system and so started up a pot. Tom soon joined you in the kitchen. “Your home is beautiful.” His words were soft, and you sighed a thank you. 

After a moment, you heard Tom sigh too. “I’m sorry I hurt you.” You looked at him with surprise. His eyes were sad and sincere, and there was nothing you could do but shake your head and insist that you were fine. “No, really, Chris told me to be honest from the beginning and I should have listened.” He sat down at the breakfast bar across from where you stood as he spoke.

You shook your head again. “No, look, Chris explained it to me, and I think I overreacted. Everyone is permitted to their privacy, and it’s not like I’m entitled to know anything about you, so really don’t be sorry.” You leaned against the breakfast counter, and when Tom’s eyes found yours you smiled gently. You really didn’t want him feeling bad.

Then he said your name again. “I was going to ask you to be my date for the world premiere of Thor in London.” 

“Date?” The word blurted out of your mouth before you could stop it.

Tom smiled at you but didn’t miss a beat. “I wasn’t going to ask you that though until after our dinner date. Well, it’s more of dinner and a show, to celebrate the New Year.” You knew you were gaping at him, but you really couldn’t help it. In all your thinking of how many ways this confrontation could end, his asking you to dinner and a show for a New Year’s celebration had never been a possibility. Honestly, you’d thought after finding out that your coffee shop friend Tom and the God of Lies and Mischief Loki were one in the same that nothing would surprise you anymore, but apparently you’d been sorely mistaken. Not that you hadn’t kind of sort of secretly wanted this, but…

“Are- Are you serious?” You stuttered, something you noticed yourself doing an awful lot around Tom. 

He shrugged and sat back in the bar stool with a casual grin. “Only if you’re sure you forgive me.”

Suddenly, you couldn’t think of anything to forgive.


	13. Best Friends Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New character introduction!: Tess (with mention of her brother Sid). 
> 
> This chapter is to introduce to you an old friend. Her character will serve as a way to help certain parts of plot move along, so whether you like her or not, WE NEED HER! So please, if you're not a fan, bear with her, and if you are, then cool. 
> 
> Think of her as me if it help! She and I are both serving to further your relationship with Tom, so we're on your side, right?! 
> 
> Much love from Tess and I~ <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Capsicle for betaing, as always! <3
> 
> Everyone, enjoy~  
> The next chapter will be up tomorrow night, and it's the one I'm looking forward to sharing with you guys, so like I said before, bear with me! I promise it'll be worth it in the end!

Tom had a way of keeping things from being awkward. Somehow he had managed to ask you to dinner, make you laugh, and leave your house without skipping a beat. After waving goodbye and closing the door behind him, a smile managed to plaster itself to your face. It took a few minutes, you thought, before you could stop grinning into space, but at last you gathered yourself enough to walk back into the kitchen and check on that coffee you'd been brewing. It was ready, but suddenly you didn't need it. 

You went to pull your phone from your pocket, but it wasn't there. It wasn't in your other pant pockets either, and after checking your jacket pockets and your purse, you finally found it with a groan on the coffee table in the living room. This morning you must have left in such a flurry that you’d forgotten the thing, so you picked it up and checked it. The new text alert lit up the screen.

[ New Text from Tess ] 

You tilted your head sideways just a little as you opened it, wondering what she wanted. [ Hey girl! Just got back from Oahu and I got you something! Can I swing by this afternoon? ] 

"Aw," you murmured aloud with a smile. You sent back an okay for meeting up later - feeling slightly guilty for responding almost two hours late - and set the phone down beside. You plopped down on the couch and reached for the remote. 

Tess and her brother Sid had been your friends since middle school. While you thought yourself the introvert, Tess was quite the contrary. She was loud and outgoing and liked the spotlight. She was the last person you would have seen yourself befriending back then, but you supposed that that saying about opposites attracting had some truth to it after all. She had approached you one day, declaring that you were friends, and since then that's what you were. 

But for as crazy and all over the place as you often thought Tess was, she also always remembered things like your birthday and your favorite way to eat s'mores and the books you liked to quote, and you supposed that was why you considered her your best friend. 

Vibrating against your thigh meant another text. [ Are you busy now? I can swing by and grab you in a hour and we can go to lunch ] You sat up, ignoring the commercial for bleach on the television. 

You sent back: [ Lunch sounds great! I'll see you in an hour~ ]

How many variations of one conversation can run through a person's mind in an hour? Sometimes while seated on your couch and occasionally while walking aimlessly about your house, you rehearsed what you were going to say to Tess. You were excited to see her, and surely during your lunch the two of you would catch up on a number of things. She might talk about her time island hopping with her family, and you might comment on your independent studies. She was likely to mention the number of great shopping spots and tourist attractions she'd spent money at, while you'd then enlighten her on your less than successful job hunt no doubt. No matter how many turns the conversation could take, though, you knew that love would come up. This much was ensured, because it was the last thing Tess had said to you before she left:

"Here's to the two of us finding love in the coming months: hopefully a strong, tanned, island man for myself and maybe a nice, quiet intellectual for my nice, quiet intellectual." 

Finding love was one of Tess' dreams - right alongside becoming a world-renowned author and saving the planet one sapling at a time. And no, you weren't in love, but you did have a dinner date and that was more than you could say in a long time. You were certain that a dinner date would practically equal love in Tess' mind, so you were trying to prepare just the right way to string the words together so that things wouldn't get too blown out of proportion... 

You were just talking to yourself in the bathroom mirror when the doorbell rang. Startled, you shot yourself one last glance, brushed your hair completely out of your face, and called for a moment as you grabbed your coat. 

The door flew open as soon as you turned the knob, and in whooshed a brunette ponytail having, red framed glasses wearing, ear to ear grinning Tess. Her arms wrapped themselves tight around your neck, and you stumbled back a couple steps to keep from falling over from the force of her attack. "I missed you!" Tess basically squealed in your ear, dancing quickly from one foot to the other without having yet let go. 

You smiled and pat her back. It wasn't the greeting you'd give someone yourself, but you understood the sentiment from her, and that was nice. 

Even so, as understanding as you were, you felt like something of a rag-doll as Tess pulled you out of your own house before you could even finish welcoming her back. Sometimes you wondered if she wasn't secretly ten years younger than you, but at the same time you supposed that her energy and excitement just to see you was a nice change from the solitude you had experienced in the months of her absence. 

"So where are we going for lunch?" you asked from the front seat of Tess' blueberry Nissan. 

"Uh, the pizzeria on 7th Street? Where else?" Tess laughed and pulled her car away from the curb a little too fast. You couldn't help laugh a bit too. The way she had answered you made you feel like you should have known that, and in hindsight, it probably should have been your first guess. The pizzeria was where you had eaten many a lunch and dinner with Tess and Sid since your high school days - so many so that you'd come to know the owner - and it was still a favorite place of Tess' to waste time. 

The drive there was short. Tess continually started to tell you something only to stop herself and insist, "oh, I'll tell you all about it, just wait." So, patiently, you waited.

"Afternoon, Luigi!" Tess waited no more than two seconds after walking in to the pizzeria to greet the owner like her was an old friend. Luigi, an older Italian man who was currently taking another customer's order, looked up and beamed upon recognizing the two of you. 

You smiled and waved as he shouted, "Ah, buongiorno!" from across the way. Tess grabbed your hand and led you to a booth, wasting no time in flagging down a server and requesting two fountain drinks before launching into full blown recap mode.

"There's so much I need to tell you and I'm just gonna hop right in because being without someone to talk to for the last twelve weeks has been absolute torture and then you'll have to catch me up on how you've been surviving without me, okay?" And on that note, you found yourself listening and nodding as Tess delivered what was, for the most part, quite the dramatic monologue. You "wow"'d appropriately, gasped when such was called for, and "tsk"'d at more than a few recounts of Sid's antics. Mostly though, you sipped your fountain drink and enjoyed the ecstatic energy rolling off of your friend. Whoever first said happiness was contagious wasn't all the far off, you thought idly. 

By the time Luigi was setting your food at the table, the house special for yourself and lunch combo for Tess, Tess had finally run out of stories - at least for now. "Alright, alright, so what about you? What's been keeping you busy?" She asked, grabbing her fork.

"Well-" you started, only to have her jump in her seat across from you as if a new thought violently entered her mind. 

"Did you do something for your birthday? Oh God, please tell me you did something for your birthday." She looked at you with genuinely pleading eyes, which made you smile and roll your eyes. 

"No, well-"

"Oh my God, you didn't do anything! I knew it- I was going to send you an e-card, you know, one with those singing and dancing little guys to wish you a happy birthday, but Sid talked me out of it. Said it was stupid, but UHG I shouldn't have listened to him!" 

"Tess! It's fine, really. I treated myself to a warm tea, and bought myself a jacket, and over all just had a really nice, relaxing day." Tess was hesitant to accept this as a truth, but eventually she shrugged.

"That sounds pretty low-key, but I guess that's how you've always been, huh? It'd have been cool if you'd have had someone to hang out with though, you know? Even if you just met them that day!" She spoke while looking at her food and gathering a bit onto her fork, so she didn't notice when you drew yourself up and bit and looked around. 

The seat of the booth you were sitting on was made of a red pleather material that had duct-taped tears here and there. There was a tear right next to your thigh that you hadn't noticed until now, and your fingers reached out to fidget with the corners of the tape, pulling it up half an inch only to smooth it down again. "Well, I kind of met someone on my birthday," you said a bit quietly. You felt a little nervous, but you thought it was probably because you hadn't rehearsed the conversation from this angle ahead of time. 

"Oh?" Tess' voice was mildly curious, and you knew that at this point she couldn't possibly be suspecting where your story was going. 

"Yeah," you continued. In your mind, you debated between giving her the whole story or just skipping to the latest bit and working backwards from there. 

"And?" she prompted.

"And not much happened just then. We just exchanged a few words while he was waiting for his coffee-" 

"He?" Naturally, the male pronoun was where her attention narrowed in on. You nodded, pulling up the tape and smoothing it down one last time before resigning your hands to your lap.

"Yeah, his name is Tom, and we sort of bumped into each other too many times not to exchange numbers and chat-"

"Exchange numbers?! Oh my God! I was wrong about your birthday - it was great! Oh goodness, when's your next date?" Her face was alight and she was excited even though you could tell that she was at least partially joking around. 

At this point, her smile was far too infectious to resist, and the corners of your mouth stretched in opposite directions regardless of whether you wanted to smile or not. "First date," you corrected first, "and it's this Friday," you added. 

Tess' gasp was so loud that you were fairly certain it attracted most of the pizzeria's customer's attentions. 

She wasn't going to leave you alone now, not after this news. You knew it before she assured you of the fact, but to be honest, you were happy to have her help and enthusiasm. To her, this was about the biggest thing to happen in your life since meeting her. While there was definitely room for debate on that one, you couldn't deny any more that no matter how you might have felt when you woke up this morning, you were now sincerely looking forward to having dinner with Tom Hiddleston.

It was with that thought that you realized you hadn't been clear as to whom Tom was exactly, but those bigger details could wait until a little later. As it was, Tess was far too hyped for you to even dream of getting a word about his last name in edgewise. She spoke so quickly about what the two of you had to do or impatiently requested more information about your time with Tom so far that you could barely say anything for the remainder of the lunch! But you'd tell her soon. Probably. Maybe after the dinner. After all, if the dinner didn't go well and that relationship didn't go anywhere, there was no point in telling her much anyway, right? But you wanted to tell her - wanted her as your best friend to know the details - and so for that reason you hoped that your dinner date with Tom went well. 

Alright, maybe you had other reasons for wanting your date to go well.


	14. Gotta Love Traditions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter in which many firsts are had. 
> 
> This was my favorite chapter to write so far but fair warning: it might give you cavities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Capsicle for struggling through this long chapter and betaing while trying to withstand all my nonsense writing and sickly sweet ideas! 
> 
> And a note to my readers: I have finals on Monday, so I definitely won't be posting anything before that. After, however, I shall be a *drumroll*... FREE WOMAN! :D (Except then I'll be on the job hunt but ehhhh we're gonna ignore that fact for now.)
> 
> So, enjoy! ^^

"I can't believe he's stealing you from me on New Years. Does he know I just came home? Has he even HEARD of the 'sisters before misters' code?" Tess was ranting and complaining from where she lay on your bed, but it was all in jest. She had come over a couple hours earlier to make sure you looked presentable for dinner - obviously you yourself couldn't be trusted with such an important task - and was now just keeping you company until he called. You were sitting on your computer desk with your cell phone in your lap. You felt dressed up in your nice, black jeans, tall boots, fitted blouse, and stylish jacket, but as Tess reminded you, it was New Years. Your hair was pulled loosely back, and whatever make-up Tess had thought appropriate for the night she had applied to your face (it really did look nice in your own humble opinion), so there wasn't much left for you to do but wait.

You played with the silver charms on your bracelet while you listened to Tess. The bracelet was a birthday present that Tess had brought back for you from her trip - silver and light and with a different charm clipped on for every place she visited that reminded her of you. It made you smile, because it really was sweet and thoughtful of her. 

"But jeez, it's almost sunset. Where is he?" Tess sounded exasperated even though it wasn't even her date as she flipped over on your bed and threw her arms over the bed's edge. You laughed lightly, but you couldn't help glancing at your phone with a slightly nervous feeling in your gut. 

That was when your phone rang, and his name lit up the screen, easing your nerves. "Hello?" you answered, Tess already off your bed and crouching next to you to listen in. 

"Hey," Tom's voice was smoother than you remembered it, calming you down and making you smile as he seemed to fondly speak your name. "I'm sorry I haven't called yet, but if it's alright with you, can I pick you up in around ten minutes?" You glanced at Tess to find her mouth open in a wide smile, and smiling yourself, you nodded into your phone. 

"Yeah, that's fine. I'll see you then," you said about as casually as you could with Tess fighting off giggles beside you. He said he was looking forward to seeing you soon, which you reciprocated before ending the call. 

"If it's alright with you!" Tess shouted as soon as the connection was cut. "What kind of gentleman are you going out with tonight? Ha!" Tess was still laughing when you rose from your seat and shoved her shoulder playfully. 

"I told you before, he's nice," you defended, your cheeks feeling a bit warm now from your friend's teasing. Tess nodded and waved you off. 

"Yeah, yeah, well don't get too crazy tonight," she continued to tease, this time taking on an exaggeratedly mocking tone and shaking her open palms in the air. 

You rolled your eyes and fought against grinning. "Alright, come on, leave it be," you begged of her, and finally, with one last stuck out tongue, Tess seemed ready to comply.

“You know, the two of you will probably end up locking lips tonight,” Tess commented all too casually. So maybe she wasn’t quite ready to comply. 

She shrugged at your shocked face. “How do you figure?”  
“Uhm, New Year’s Kiss? Everyone locks lips at midnight, it’s a tradition.” She informed you of this tradition as if it were common knowledge and you were childish and naïve not to know about it. You were vaguely aware of some shady tradition like this, but you had never been very interested in it, nor had you even thought for a second to apply to yourself tonight. 

You hadn’t applied it to yourself yet, and you didn’t want to apply it to yourself now. The entire situation was nerve-racking enough without also worrying about kissing. “That’s not a thing, so get out of my house. Go, out.” The teasing and feigned irritation was only a shallow excuse to get Tess to leave, and she knew it. She realized that she should be gone before he arrived to pick you up, and so without further delay she dropped her teasing and snatched her purse from where it hung on the doorknob. 

"Fine, whatever, just call me tomorrow sometime and tell me about it. I'll be stuck at home banging pots around like an idiot tonight, so you better have a good time for both of us. But I'm gonna go now before he gets here." You followed Tess out of your room and down the stairs.

"That's probably a good idea. I wouldn't want you cramping my style," you joked, to which she let out one loud laugh and a look at your over her shoulder. 

"Oh, please! Shut up." Tess slipped her sneakers on in your entryway and gave you a hug before taking her leave, muttering and laughing about "cramping your style, please." 

Alone in your house, you didn't give yourself time to sit down and be nervous. You double checked your appearance in the mirror. You made your way through the living room, picking up a mug and a wine glass that your parents left on the coffee table earlier today. 

You'd been shamelessly avoiding them for the past few days. Your mother likely hadn't even noticed, or if she did, she probably thought you were out socializing and was rejoicing. You could have told her about tonight; it would no doubt have been the highlight of her life, knowing that you were going out with a nice man, but you were just bitter enough to keep her from having that satisfaction. Perhaps it was childish. You didn't care, although that in and of itself was surely equally as childish. Your father noticed, of this you were fairly confident. You imagined that he was mercifully not seeking you out, and would remember to thank him sometime.

Your hands had been preoccupied in hot running water when a knock on the front door startled your heart like a defibrillator. "One second!" you shouted. Most of these dishes were clean, and the rest could be finished when you got back. For now, you hurried to dry your hands and make it to the front door, pausing to check your appearance just one last time before opening the door. 

Far too reminiscent of Christmas Eve, Tom stood in your doorway dressed in slacks, a grey tuxedo vest, a charming smile, and a single rose in his hand. He seemed to very much like the monochromatic color schemes for his outfits, and you could see why. He looked great it them. 

He said your name in greeting and extended the rose toward you. 

"Tom," you smiled, accepting the beautifully romantic flower. "You didn't have to bring me a rose, or dress so nicely," you insisted, stepping out of your house and locking your front door behind you. He waited for you to put your keys in your purse before offering you a bent arm. 

"I'm glad I did though," he said once you accepted his elbow, "If I hadn't, I would have paled even more drastically next to you. People wouldn't have believed that we were going anywhere together!" You laughed at his words, absurd as they were.

"That's ridiculous, seriously. But, thank you." You added to your gratitude a small nod when he opened the door of his car for you, closing it behind you as you sat down. For the few seconds that you were alone in his car while he walked around, you went ahead and inspected its interior. Tess had told you that the inside of a car said a lot about a man, and although you protested to her insistence that you memorize the inside to later detail to her, you did look around. 

Surprisingly, there was nothing. It wasn't just immaculately clean; there was literally nothing that would distinguish this car from a car still on the dealer's lot. You looked out the window in time to see Tom's slender fingers adjusting the buttons on his vest before opening the door and sliding himself in. "Ready?" he asked, actually pausing as if he thought you might say no and didn't want to get ahead of himself. 

"Yeah," you felt like you were giving him permission to start the car - which he did promptly and happily - and this gave you the bit of courage you needed to continue and ask, "why's it so empty in here?" 

"Oh, this car's a rental. I left mine with my sister and her boyfriend when I came to here to film, you see. My old car was a terrible mess, unfortunately. I've already promised myself and Emma that when I buy another car I'll keep better care of it. We'll see how long I can keep that promise, eh?" He asked, glancing your way as he drove with a smile. You looked away; you were slightly embarrassed that he'd caught you staring at his profile when you yourself hadn't even noticed. 

"Ah, well, I hope you're able to keep Emma happy. I can just imagine the ear beating she'd give you if you let her down," you said with a shallow chuckle. In your lap, your hands sat folded around the stem of the vibrantly colored rose which now held your gaze. You felt a little awkward, even though you didn't want to, and even though his presence was usually so relaxing, and it upset you.

He sensed your unease though. You could tell before he asked if everything was alright by the way he was glancing over at you every few seconds. "I'm fine, it's just..." you didn't finish the thought, possibly because you weren't entirely sure how to finish it. 

He had a talent for communicating though, because he filled in the words you had been silently groping for. "I didn't ask you to dinner for your forgiveness you know, so don't even think that. I may have needed your forgiveness for this dinner date to happen, but it was absolutely forgiveness, then dinner, and not the other way around." His voice was so sincere that right away your shoulders were able to relax.

"I know," you exhaled. Even though you hadn't been completely sure of it before, you felt much better now. 

"Besides," Tom continued, "Chris told me what he told you, so I've lost the advantage of being subtle here. Cat's out of the bag I'm afraid." You'd started laughing, remembering not for the first time since that day you met Chris the way he had described Tom's behavior after meeting you for the first time. 

"Ah, yes. If I remember correctly, he said that you thought me a 'lovely young woman' and he thought you 'annoying'." You gave him a pointedly teasing look before the two of you started laughing out loud. Each burst of happiness ate away at whatever nervousness or unease you had been dwelling on up until now until the atmosphere inside the car felt like any other time you'd spent passing time with Tom. You smiled, thinking you had been silly all along to feel weird at all.

When finally you pulled up to the same nice restaurant you had dined at Christmas Eve, the conversation had found its way to disclosing stories from the set of “Thor” by your request. He was in the middle of recounting some of the hilarious antics of Chris or Natalie Portman or Anthony Hopkins when the car pulled into the parking spot. “Kat Dennings,” he had concluded one short tale with, “is seriously something else - funny girl, that one. She’ll make you laugh when you see the movie, I guarantee it.” 

“Right, because you’re in it, so of course I’ll see the movie, right?” You asked a bit sassily, baiting him for the response you knew he was going to give. 

“Well, at the premier?” His tone said that he genuinely just thought you’d forgotten, so you smiled coyly. 

“I haven’t said yes to that, remember?” You opened your door and stepped out of the car, leaving the rose on your seat and looking back over the top of the car to look at Tom when you heard his car door also open. 

He was grinning and nodding slightly. “Alright, yes, one date at a time,” he sounded as if he was half reminding himself of that and half talking to you as well. “And I realize now that my invitation to the premier wasn’t a proper one, so you should reject it.” 

You shrugged, a smile still ghosting upon your lips. You enjoyed being playful. You worried briefly that you wouldn’t know how to do this ‘date’ thing as it had been a while since you’d actually been on one, but everything felt fine and comfortable with him so you let yourself relax. 

He walked with you up into the restaurant where he announced his last name to the hostess for the reservations. Promptly, the two of you were led to a table that, much like on Christmas Eve, was dressed in a white linen cloth and adorned with table settings and a low burning candle in the middle. Tom pulled out your chair for you, which you took with a small “thank you”. He was a lot more, what was the word, chivalrous than you had guessed? It wasn’t that you didn’t know that this was his general demeanor as much as it was the first time the two of you had been out like this and therefore also the first time you’d really noticed. It was different than you were used to; a nice change of pace that you thought you could, in time, get used to.

Dinner by candlelight on New Year’s Eve sounds really romantic the more you repeat it in your head. He’s sitting across from you, telling you stories that make you laugh and somehow constantly pulling you into it and getting you to talk about yourself. You don’t know how he does it, but he does, and you wonder if ‘extremely skilled conversationalist’ is on his acting resume. You learn about his schooling experience and he learns a bit about yours. At some point he told you that he was 29 years old and that his birthday was coming up in February. He looked almost a bit nervous when he mentioned it, but you smiled and wished him an early birthday. And just like that the conversation moved forward. 

It wasn’t until he was done telling you about some of the wild things he used to do as a young boy with his sisters did the conversation take a turn towards you and your own childhood and things got quiet. 

“Oh, I’m sorry if I’ve asked something too personal,” Tom apologized when you had only managed to mutter a few “uhm”’s and “ah”’s and look down into your lap. You shook your head, forcing a smile to deflect his needless apology.

“No, it’s fine,” you told him, “I just, I mean, my childhood was pretty average, you know? Just playing around with the neighborhood kids and all that... Pretty standard stuff...” Your voice grew quieter as you spoke, and you hoped – prayed – that he didn’t ask about siblings. You couldn’t lie and say that you never had Wendy, but you couldn’t talk about her either. You’d just end up crying, and even now as she came into your thoughts, your eyes threatened to water up and spill over. 

Luckily, the server brought your orders then and saved the both of you from any awkward pauses that might have filled the space. You knew that he knew that you weren’t being entirely honest with him, but you also knew that he would be kind enough not to push it. He didn’t let it stay quiet long after the server left, instead complimenting the food and asking if you were enjoying yours, which you were. 

The conversation never got quite as bubbly as it had been before for the rest of the meal, but then again the two of you had had full mouths half of the time any way. Laughing with mouths full would have been entirely inappropriate, so you just let him take the lead with casual conversation for most of the remaining time that you sat there. When he asked you if you were interested in any of the desserts, you were tempted, but ultimately had to decline. The meal had been too delicious and you’d ended up eating your fill and leaving little to no room for anything else. 

Despite your motioning to get your wallet from your purse, Tom insisted he pay the bill. You went to grab the bill when it came to your table in another effort to pay your way, but he snatched it before you could and actually wagged a finger at you. “Please,” he said, “You’re doing enough by accompanying me tonight. The very least I can do is pay for your meal.” You weren’t convinced, but you recalled Emma telling you once that she never got to pick up a check with Tom around, so you resigned. You figured if that fiery girl couldn’t pry it out of his hands, what chances did you have?

“So, I was also promised a show?” you asked as the two of you exited the restaurant, the chilly night air blowing gently but persistently against your cheeks. Earlier, Tess had talked you out of wearing the scarf Tom had bought you because it both ‘clashes with your outfit and just screams desperate’. Now, you felt foolish for listening as the breeze cooled your collarbone quicker than comfortable. 

“That you were,” Tom nodded, stepping ahead of you quickly yet smoothly to open the passenger car door for you just as he had earlier. You slid in, feeling comfortably full from dinner, and waited for him to slide in the other side. “There’s a play going on at the park tonight – well, not one cohesive play, more like a compilation of great scenes from theater history. It’s not common for theater troupes to get together and perform shows by moonlight, but this is a sort of celebration for the New Year. An ‘appreciation for past theater and excitement for future theater’ sort of event. It’s free and might be a bit crowded, but I’ve always been a fan of live performance.” You could tell by the way he talked about it as he drove that he was more than a casual fan of the stuff, and the fact that he seemed to love theater so much was rather endearing to you. Some movie actors, you thought, didn’t have what Tom seemed to have, and you thought it a nice quality in him. 

The car ride was quieter this time than before, but you didn’t feel weird about it. You just looked out your window and thought about how unexpected this whole situation was, but how you were happy about it nonetheless. 

At some point you must have started drumming your fingers on your lap, but you hadn’t noticed until the car stopped. Actually, it was when the car stopped and you looked at Tom to find him looking at your fingers in your lap with a smile did you realize you had started drumming. Immediately you stopped and grinned as if you were a child that had been caught doing something naughty and he laughed. You would have told him to hush up had he not gotten out of the car then. 

Instead of coming around to get your door like you honestly expected him to do, he stopped and popped his trunk. Curious, you opened your door yourself. Being outside made you remember how chilly it had gotten, and your arms wrapped around your torso instinctively. In hindsight, you realized that you should have thought to bundle up more, but you had originally taken ‘a show’ to mean a movie and hadn’t planned on an outdoor event of any kind. 

"What's going on?" Making your way around to the back end of the car, you found Tom pulling out a rolled up blanket and two jackets from the car trunk.  
"It's getting cool," he said as he closed the trunk lid. "Oh, you're already cold, here." He set down the blanket and one of the jackets on the car in order to insist that you wear the other. Some sort of polite denial made an attempt out of your mouth, but Tom wouldn't hear of it. He held up the jacket, which was large and thick and looked enticingly warm, and you were powerless to resist for long. You held onto the sleeves of your own light jacket and pushed your arms through the second jacket with Tom's assistance.  
"Thank you, Tom," you said, pulling the thick material of the jacket around you and already feeling the warming effects of having it on. It had a distinct smell on it, and your cheeks felt warm when you realized that it was infused with Tom’s scent because he probably wore it often.  
The breeze played with your hair as you waited for Tom to don the leather jacket he had pulled out for himself. You were almost angry at how well he managed to pull off everything he wore, and the leather that was now hugging his upper body offered no exception. He grabbed the blanket and tucked it under his leather sleeved arm, then offered you his other one with a smile. The sky was darker now then before, the sun having set a good while ago, and stars were partnering with park lanterns to light the sky and grass around you. It was truly a nicer first date than you had dared to dream of, and you appreciated this more than Tom had probably anticipated, so instead of taking his politely extended arm, you reached forward and took his hand in yours.  
He’d not expected it, and you could see in his face that the gesture had honestly made him quite happy. His happiness, you found, fed your own happiness. Your hands were balmy compared to the night air, pressed together and not separating a bit as you walked farther into the park.  
There was a wood stage set up in the heart of the park, and a small but noteworthy crowd was gathered around the stage. You hesitated, not wanting to sit jammed up between one stranger and the next, and ask Tom if he wouldn’t mind sitting just a short ways away. Looking around, he suggested an isolated spot atop a grassy little hill, and you agreed that that looked like a nice spot from which to watch the scenes from. He laid down the blanket, and you couldn’t help but laughing a little bit as you sat down on it.  
Tom joined you, a curious smirk on his face. “What’s so funny?”  
You shook your head, the smile still present on your face. “Nothing. It’s just so nice, it’s almost unreal.” His long legs stretched out comfortable before you and crossed at the ankle. His smile was smaller but no less sincere as he looked over the people eagerly awaiting a show, probably thinking something about how the theater troupe was nice to be here or the audience seemed like a nice crowd to spend the night with, and then back to you.  
“It is nice, incredibly so thanks to your presence.” Expertly, he turned your compliment back on you, and you thought that he was so kind you might just punch him. You settled for pushing his shoulder with yours.  
It was a short while longer before the scenes began, but Tom used the time by filling you in on what you could expect to see tonight as well as mapping out some of the constellations in the sky. When the actors started on the stage, he whispered in your ear, asking if you could hear. For the time being you could, so you nodded, and with a quiet appreciation you took in great scenes from theater history.  
Sitting next to Tom though, you found your focus to be greatly divided. Sometimes, you could be absorbed in the parts that the actors were playing, but other times, Tom distracted you. He wasn’t trying to distract you, oh heavens no! Quite the opposite: Tom became invested in each scene, so much so that when you looked at his profile, you could see that his eyes were almost disconnected, and sometimes his lips would even twitch along with the lines being performed. You knew you shouldn’t be spending as much time watching him as you were – and a couple times a scene would end while you were watching him and he would catch you watching him and smile – but you couldn’t help it. It was admirable to you, the way he kept losing himself in the stories, and you wondered if you’d ever find something you were as passionate about as he was about this.

There came a point - towards the end of the show you were sure – when the breeze picked up and became steady. It was cold against your face and bit a tad at your nose, but that didn’t bother you so much as the hum that was no constantly in your ear. You leaned forward and struggled to hear. Seeing this, Tom leaned forward and asked, “Can you hear?”

“Not very well,” you answered honestly, adding the question, “what’s going on now?” 

“Helena has followed Demetrius into the forest,” Tom said, not needing even a moment’s time to gather what was going on on-stage. “She loves him, but he does not return the feelings. He’s saying to her, “Do I entice you? Do I speak you fair? Or rather do I not in plainest truth tell you I do not, nor I cannot love you?”

You listened intently as Tom’s low voice filled your ear while the actor on stage mouthed the words. The actor’s own voice was now not only barely audible to your ears over the wind, but was now a negligible echo to Tom’s speaking. Tom’s narration was soothing, and he recited their lines with such timing and conviction as if they were his own. His breath was warm when it flushed against your skin. The side of your face and neck was heating up quicker than the rest of your skin, but even that which wasn’t being warmed by his presence or breath was getting there. As you found yourself getting wrapped up in the scene (or perhaps it was his voice more than the words themselves), you wondered why you hadn’t said that you couldn’t hear earlier. It was unlikely that he knew the words to every scene – this was surely lucky coincidence – but this would have been nice the whole time. 

You watched the man called Demetrius walk off stage, before the woman named Helena looked out into the audience and delivered her last, dramatic line. “I’ll follow thee,” Tom whispered in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine, “and make a heaven of hell, to die upon the hand I love so well.” You looked at Tom then, and when his eyes found yours, your stopped breathing for the moment. It was odd: the effect that this had on you was not one you would have predicted. You never would have said that men reciting Shakespearean poetry was your thing. But was it your thing? It felt like your thing, at least in this moment. 

Tess’ words about the New Years tradition came to the front of your mind and you and Tom kept staring into one another. You could hear the crowd cheer for Helena as she undoubtedly made her exit, and you and Tom would have joined in their cheering had it not been for the sound of a distant countdown encouraging you to kiss the man already. “3…” Just kiss him already. “2…” Honestly, you know that you want to. “1…” It’s a tradition for God’s sake! 

Somewhere, fireworks went off, or maybe that was just your imagination as your lips met Tom’s for the very first time.


	15. Justifiably High Spirits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short blurb of a chapter in our dear Tom's perspective as he drops you off back home after too short a night~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shhhhh, don't tell my beautiful beta that I'm posting this. She doesn't know. Whoops.
> 
> It's a short chapter and one that may not be up to my usual standards (because a. it's not beta'd and b. it's 2:30am) but it's one that I wanted to write before moving on with major plot. It's just a very short something to let you guys know that while I'm extraordinarily slow at updating this, I've not abandoned it quite yet. 
> 
> FINALLY, before the chapter, I have one last thing to say: I have ideas of where I want to go with this story and what I want to happen, but there's definitely wiggle room for additional things. Basically what I'm saying is that if you as the reader have any specific things you'd love to read about in this story, let me know and I may just possibly oblige! :)
> 
> Enjoy~

“I’ll see you again before I leave?” Tom couldn’t keep the smile off of his face if he wanted to. All of his worries and fears that had revolved around this relationship you had kissed away not an hour ago. It had only been one kiss, true, but it was one that he had long been anticipating and one that was reassuring, however brief. 

He watched you nod, noting happily the flushed color in your cheeks as you did so. He realized that the pink that decorated your soft cheeks was likely due to the crisp, chilling night air. Even so, he enjoyed it on you. “You better,” you said with just enough playful attitude to make Tom’s smile grow larger if possible. 

He ducked his head, then looked back at you. The very beginnings of relationships, he thought, were quite special things. It was sad to him that he’d have to leave you so soon after coming this far. “I take a plane back to London next week, but we’ll get together and do something before then, yes?”

“Yes, for sure.” You stepped forward to take the side of Tom’s face into one of your hands and pull him down to your level, a motion which he obliged happily so that the two of you could kiss once more. It was cool outside but your lips were warm as they pushed against his. He was in justifiably high spirits when you pulled away again and held up a finger in front of him. “I’m serious, Thomas. You better not leave without saying goodbye.” 

He laughed, your commandment and use of his full first name comically unnecessary. “I would not.”

Tom exchanged good nights with you and in good spirits the two of you separated for the night, you into your house and he back to his car. If he played the radio a little loudly on his drive home and danced a bit in his seat while he drove, no one could blame him.

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of a few stories I'm working on at the moment. I'd like to offer a huge thanks to my best friend/wife/cuddle buddy/Tony-to-my-Steve/and beta who has yet to make an account on this site but will soon so that I can properly credit her~ 
> 
> If you have the time, feel free to assure me that you don't hate my guts after reading this. If you do hate me, guts and all, then I am so so sorry. Please forgive me for the wrongs that I have done you, whatever they may be~ <3


End file.
